When the Gods Choose

WHEN THE GODS CHOOSE Patricia Wilson

Nothing was going to stop her -Not even the powerful and arrogant Mexican Jaime Carreras! Sara Lawrence had vowed to find her archaeologist father because of a deathbed promise to her mother. And that was what she would do. Carreras had warned her that her quest was foolish, and that without his help she could not be successful. Ignoring his warning - and the strange, furious pounding of her heart - Sara struck out alone on a journey fraught with disaster. And to her dismay she discovered that the words of Senor Carreras were true: all roads in Mexico led to him....

CHAPTER ONE SARA felt a wave of unease when she saw the extent of the glittering splendour of the ball at the Mexican Trade Mission. She hadn't quite expected this when she had talked John Culver into bringing her. It had taken a lot of self-discipline to even approach him. He had always set her teeth on edge, and he certainly hadn't altered since the days when she had known him at her grandmother's house. He was here now, bordering on the effete or trying to be, all a studied pose as he pretended to be uninterested in her reason for being here, stopping to gossip with everyone his eye fell upon. Sara began to simmer quietly. She was already annoyed that she had been forced to tell him some of her reasons for begging this favour, and she could well do without this deliberate lagging behind. She was not here for pleasure. The dress and accessories she had been obliged to buy had set her holiday savings back by three months at least, and she intended to get the proper use out of them at once. The chances of her ever being at a function like this again were infinitesimal, certainly not if she could help it! 'All right, old girl?' He came alongside and Sara took his arm in a no- nonsense grip that brought a slightly pained expression to his face. If he was pretending to be the Scarlet Pimpernel, there was no way she was going to assist him! To the world he was Sir John Culver, a rising star at the Foreign Office, but to her grandmother he had been 'That fool, Johnny!' and though it grieved her to agree with her grandmother in any way, she had to admit that that was exactly how she thought of him. 'Interesting, isn't it?' he murmured, looking round the splendid room, the subtle hint of the barbaric in the brilliant wall hangings, the discreetly placed artefacts. 'Just borderin' on the scary! Hardly think

you were in London. Interesting though, I mean in view of your connections with Mexico...' He knew full well that she had no connections with Mexico at all, except for an absentee father. It was typical of his little bursts of childish spite, and his attitude did nothing to endear him to her, but interest was beginning to bubble up inside. She tightened her grip. He was not going to be allowed to sidetrack now. 'Which one is Senor Carreras?' Sara said eagerly, keeping him determinedly to the task in hand. At great pains to make sure that Sara did not change her mind about accompanying him, he had assured her that there would be a man here tonight who knew the hinterland of Mexico better than anyone alive. 'Wouldn't recognise him if he sprang at me!' he said infuriatingly. 'But there's a Senor Perez, Head of the Trade Mission. He'll point Carreras out. I happen to know that's why many people are here tonight, to try and talk to Carreras,' he added, with his annoying little habit of 'I know a secret', and Sara bit her lip in vexation. She had not thought that she would have to queue up to get the great man's attention. 'You're sure he acts as a guide?' she said severely. 'Oh, I expect so. He's supposed to know Mexico better than anyone.' He was back into his usual vague character, and Sara stifled the momentary twinge of unease. John had suggested Carreras when she had talked to him; now it seemed he was not at all sure. Still, it mattered not one bit. Anyone who knew Mexico would do. If this man Carreras was here, then all she needed from John was an introduction. She could do the rest herself. If Carreras refused, there would be someone else. If she could arrange for a guide while she was still in England, William was

more likely to give her daring idea his blessing. At the moment he was furious. The dress she wore was jade green, a light, wispy organza that floated around her as she walked, the sort of dress she had dreamed of but had never had in her life before. She had never been able to afford anything like it, and she could not afford it now, but this was so very important to her that she had stifled the pangs of conscience and bought it, together with gold sandals and evening bag. She had to make a good impression, and she could rely on John Culver for one thing at least— he was pushy! Having assured her that Carreras was important, he would see to it that she met him, if only to prove to her how important he was himself. 'Ah! There, look!' John brightened up and pointed across the room. 'There's Senor Perez. We'll have a word, and then we'll ask after Carreras.' AH the Mexicans were beautifully dressed, she noticed, especially the tall man talking to Senor Perez, the head, of the Trade Mission. There was wealth there; it showed in the man's clothes, his confident stance, the smoothly expensive haircut. For some reason or other, her eyes stayed on him, and to her consternation he suddenly turned, as if he felt her appraisal. It was like being struck by lightning, and for a second every bit of breath seemed to leave her body as wave after wave of vivid awareness swept over her. They were still some distance apart, and yet it seemed that she was staring into two black and glittering eyes from only inches away. The room, the noise, the music all faded, and only that face, those eyes, were real. His lean, dark face showed no emotion. There was just the hypnotic black gaze, the rapt attention, the way that his eyes never left hers. Men had looked at her before, and she knew that her hair was an

attraction in itself and that tonight, against the jade green of the dress, it shone with a light of its own, tawny as autumn leaves. But no man had ever looked at her in quite the same way. This was no sexual appraisal, no quick, skimming glance over her slender figure, only the vivid intensity of his eyes locking with hers, an aloof assessment in the dark, aristocratic face, an irritated awareness in the tall, superbly masculine frame. She could not look away, could not snap out of the breathless feeling, and her face flooded with colour as he frowned and turned deliberately away. Whoever he was, he had not liked her staring at him. His cold reaction to it had quite unnerved her, and her hand on John's arm was not now so firm and determined. She would rather not go to meet Senor Perez at this minute. She had plenty of time to wait until his haughty friend had gone. John, though, had come out of his lethargic role and made a beeline forward, taking her along forcefully. Being Foreign Office, he knew most people, and she was introduced to the kindly-looking man who was leading this delegation, forcing herself to turn to face him, well aware that dark, disapproving eyes watched her. 'Miss Sara Lawrence,' John Culver was saying when she at last returned to some semblance of reality. 'Her father is the archaeologist, Hector Lawrence. You probably know him?' he added with that curiously bored air that he had cultivated over the years. 'I do not actually know him, senorita, but I certainly know of him; who in Mexico does not? He has been in—seclusion for some years now, however. Did he return to England, then, after all?' 'No, Sara intends to go out to Mexico and find him,' John Culver drawled, offering one of the titbits of information that Sara had been forced to give him.

'You will be welcome in my country, Senorita Lawrence. May I meanwhile introduce my friend and fellow countryman, Senor Jaime Carreras—he also has a great interest in our country's past.' Sara's heart sank like a stone. This man was Carreras! Not a very auspicious beginning, but she would have to try. There was no putting off the inevitable, and Sara turned back to the tall Mexican whose eyes were still intently on her face. 'Senorita Lawrence.' He bowed slightly and took her hand, his eyes never leaving hers, and Sara felt the colour flare over her face at the look in those eyes. Either he disliked English women, or he had suspected her of eyeing him openly. She could well believe that his aristocratic mind would find that distasteful. He made no attempt to speak, and John took the opportunity to once again take charge of the conversation. 'Actually, Senor Carreras,' he confided with a light laugh, 'I strongly suspect that the only reason that Sara consented to be my partner this evening was in the hope of meeting you. She wants a guide, and I rather think that she's hoping to persuade you to fill the role.' She could have killed John! She had just decided that, however urgent her need, she would ask no favours of this man. Whatever he had been thinking when he had met her eyes across the room, John had now confirmed. 'A guide, senorita?' His voice was smokily soft and faintly sardonic, making her colour flare yet again. 'If you require a safari around this beautiful but cold city, then I can only tell you that I would have both of us lost within minutes. I am sure that Sir John knows London far better than I do.'

He was looking at her with a disdainful amusement that made her temper flare. He had deliberately misunderstood, and she couldn't decide who annoyed her most—John or this tall, arrogant Mexican. 'I want to find my father, Senor Carreras. I need a guide in Mexico, not here.' She looked at him angrily and he instantly repaid her in kind. 'You have taken a very long time to look for him, senorita. To my certain knowledge, he has been alone in the interior for fifteen years. I doubt very much if you would even recognise him.' Her face paled at this remark, which was clearly a reprimand, but she made herself face him. 'Do you know my father, Senor Carreras?' she asked coldly, her slim hands clenched at her sides. 'No, senorita, I do not, not now. Once I did. He filled me with the desire to follow in his footsteps. I doubt very much whether anyone knows him now other than the Indians of the village where he has made his home. A man without friends and family often turns to unlikely companions for comfort. It would have been better had he been looked for and brought back to his own country many years ago. Perhaps now that his family have belatedly begun to seek him, he will not wish to come.' Sara was stunned by the antagonism and the arrogant assurance in his voice. She had not then mistaken the way he had looked at her when she had come across the room—dislike at first sight! Or maybe he had somehow already known who she was and why she was here. Certainly she had never met anyone like this man before, and he seemed to imagine that he could speak to her as he wished. Even

John was stunned into silence, and Senor Perez was looking decidedly embarrassed. 'That is entirely up to him, Senor Carreras.' Her voice was shaking with anger, and his eyes moved to her clenched hands with a sort of wry satisfaction. 'I am not looking for him with even the vaguest intention of bringing him home. In fact, he has no home. I have news for him, that's all.' 'Sara's father has been left a whole heap of money!' John Culver's voice struck up, as he treacherously imparted the last bit of information that he had. 'If he doesn't come soon, the whole lot goes to someone else. That's why Sara has to find him.' 'I see!' The dark eyes looked down at her scathingly, and she could just tell what he was thinking. 'It is not then, senorita, for sentimental reasons?' 'I very much doubt if you do see, Senor Carreras,' she said quietly, with no warmth in her deep blue eyes. 'And I am not sentimental. However, as you are clearly not a guide...' She started to turn away, but his voice stopped her. 'I could be the best guide that there is, senorita, but I do not act as a guide in any capacity, paid or unpaid!' There was a cold disdain on his face, and Sara was grateful for the intervention of the other Mexican? 'Senor Carreras is not in fact a guide at all, Senorita Lawrence,' he said with a pleasantry that showed why he had the job that he did so well. 'It is true that he knows the hinterland of my country better than any man alive, but the work he does there is purely on an honorary basis. The time he gives is his own, and he neither expects nor receives any recompense, except the grateful thanks of his government. Senor Carreras is a merchant banker, senorita, and more

often than not the work that he does among the Indians is funded from his own resources.' Sara felt new waves of feeling now, the major one being acute embarrassment, a feeling that even outweighed her desire to turn on John and beat him. Even so, it had not been as unforgivable a sin as Senor Carreras' sharp tone to her. He had no right to speak to her as he had done, and her face was hot but well controlled when she turned to him. 'I'm sorry, Senor Carreras.' Her apology was not delivered with any charm. 'It appears that I will have to look elsewhere for a guide.' 'I would advise, senorita, that your wisest course of action would be to abandon the whole idea of a trip to find your father,' he said with studied coldness. 'The country where he is believed to be is not easy to travel, and it is very remote, dangerous for a woman, even a Mexican woman,' he added, with a look that told her she was undoubtedly soft all through. 'Perhaps a message would do just as well?' 'I very much doubt it, Senor Carreras,' Sara said, matching his cold tones but hearing herself how temper coloured her voice. 'There is a time factor involved.' 'We have a postal service which finally gets to all parts of the country, senorita,' he informed her with arrogantly inclined head, the glittering dark eyes looking down at her. 'We do not rely upon a runner with a cleft stick.' 'I'm sure that you don't, senor,' she said, fighting hard not to slap him. 'However, I intend to take the message myself.'

'You would be more at home in Acapulco, Senorita Lawrence,' he taunted, his eyes at last skimming her figure and the beauty of her expensive dress. It was more than enough. With a muttered goodbye, Sara escaped, feeling the inclination to break into a run and to snatch her arm away from John when he caught up with her. The other Mexican had been called away before these final exchanges and she was glad. He was too pleasant a man to be embarrassed by someone like Senor Carreras. As to John Culver, she was furious with him! 'Why did you let me believe that that man would be helpful?' she stormed quietly when they were dancing. 'I honestly thought that he would be,' he protested. 'At the very least, I thought he would show interest. He must know exactly where your father is. In fact, I'll tell you this much, if Carreras doesn't know, then nobody knows. You can hardly blame me that he took an instant dislike to you!' 'No, that's true,' Sara agreed fairly. 'Never mind, John. Thanks for bringing me. Perhaps I'll get somebody else to help while I'm here.' 'I wouldn't think so, Sara,' he said with every sign of genuine regret. 'If Carreras frowns then you are definitely persona non grata. You heard that Carreras is a merchant banker—in fact, he's a lot more than that. To most people he's almost Mr Mexico. He's welcome in all circles, right to the very top. His word counts. If he shook his head, you wouldn't even get a permit to go into the country.' 'Nobody's that powerful!' Sara protested, looking up at him. 'Oh, yes, they are, m'dear,' he assured her, and one quick, anxious glance at Senor Carreras convinced her. He was surrounded by the most important-looking men, the most glittering ladies, all hanging

on to his words. Frighteningly though, his eyes were on her, dark and unfathomable, filling her with a gathering dread that almost outweighed her anger. She tore her eyes away and concentrated on John and the people he knew, throwing herself into the spirit of things, determined to get the best out of this. The dress, after all, had been a sheer waste of money. She had been humiliated, chastised and almost frightened. There must be somebody here, though, who could help, somebody who knew a good, reputable guide. John seemed to be very contrite and anxious to help as much as he could, quite forgetting his brittle ways as he guided her from one person to the next. It was quite useless, though. All voices directed her back to Carreras, and all eyes turned rather worriedly to him at the slightest suggestion that there could be anyone who knew Mexico as well. Wherever she went his eyes seemed to follow her, and it was like waiting for fate to catch up with her. He was determined for some reason that she should not go to find her father, and she knew that he would do something. Deep inside she was holding her breath, partly from frustration and partly from sheer worry. Why he should even take any notice, she could not think. He did nothing, though, until they were almost ready to leave, and then, as she was dancing with John, she was aware of him behind her, even though she never turned. 'You will allow me this dance, I am sure.' The smoky voice, softly accented, was almost in her ear, and every muscle in her body tightened as he calmly extricated her from John's arms and swept her off across the crowded floor.

'It would have been perfectly easy to send me a message if you wanted to speak to me, Senor Carreras,' she said as firmly as she could, deliberately turning her head away, too scared if she could admit it to look at him. His eyes on her had seemed to be trying to rob her of any will and now in his arms she realised what a battle she had on her hands. 'I did not wish to send you a message, senorita,' he said softly and firmly. 'Messages have a way of being heard by those that are not concerned with them. .This matter concerns you and me alone.' 'You mean that you're going to guide me to my father?' Sara asked, knowing as she said it that the very thought alarmed her. 'I mean nothing of the sort, Senorita Lawrence!' he snapped. 'I have no intention of either guiding you to your father or of allowing anyone else to do so. He has been alone for many years. Leave him in peace with his people!' 'Your people, you mean, Senor Carreras! My father is English!' 'What a great pity that your family did not realise that many years ago!' he grated, his hands tightening harshly on her. 'In any case, I did not come here to exchange insults with you. I wish you to know that I will not permit you to go now and disturb him!' 'You own Mexico, Senor Carreras?' Sara asked sarcastically, and he looked down his straight nose at her, his eyes glitteringly black. 'Not quite, senorita!' he rasped. 'I do have a certain power there, however, and complete power here tonight. There is no person at this gathering who would even lift a finger to help you unless I gave a nod of approval.'

'Instead you've been carefully watching me and quietly shaking your head!' Sara flared. 'I'm astounded at the interest you're showing in someone so lowly as myself! Try to ignore me, senor, and try to mind your own business!' 'I will gladly ignore you when you give up this idiotic adventure!' he said coldly. 'As to my interest, I remember your father, senorita, and I do not like greed!' 'It's amazing how the rich can discount money!' Sara scoffed. 'I shall do exactly as I please!' 'Not while I have my eye on you!' he said scathingly. 'The rabbit may struggle in the trap, but he is trapped just the same!' 'I'm not trapped!' Sara snapped, glaring at him, and he smiled down in amusement. 'Not until you arrive in Mexico, senorita,' he said with a sinister quiet. 'There you will find that all roads lead to Carreras.' 'When I arrive, Senor Carreras, and I shall arrive, you won't even know that I'm there. It's not a country that I look forward to seeing, but I know that it's big!' 'Not big enough to hide in, senorita,' he assured her calmly. 'You will need papers, documents, permission; all the information I ever need is passed to me as soon as I require it. You cannot sneak into my country as a thief!' '1 have no wish to take even the tiniest grain of Mexican soil!' Sara ground out. 'I have a lifetime of hatred for your country. I want to find my father and then get out as fast as possible. Don't be afraid, senor, I won't try to remove your famous visitor!' 'He is famous no more,' the Mexican said quietly.

Leave an old man in peace and pursue your fortunes elsewhere. I'm sure a girl with your—talents will not be waiting long for good fortune.' His eyes flared over her insolently, and she tensed to draw back and slap the irritating, haughty face, but he caught her wrist with fingers like steel. 'I would not advise it, senorita,' he cautioned softly, his black eyes narrowed. 'I may take reprisals that you would not welcome at all. Certainly I would not just accept a blow gratefully!' There was a compelling glow in the dark eyes, a glitter of light deep in their black depths, and she was almost hysterically glad when John intervened. 'I think we should be going, Sara!' he said peevishly. 'I did promise William that I'd get you back fairly early, and it's gone midnight. He'll never sleep until you're there.' Sara looked up at the tall Mexican, and was in time to see his stunned look change to disgust as John stalked off to get her wrap. 'Be warned, senorita,' he said tightly. 'Forget your search. The country you are proposing to visit is wild and dangerous. There are guides, but for a woman alone, the idea is preposterous!' 'I make up my own mind, Senor Carreras,' she said coolly, feeling less menaced now that she was about to leave. 'It is a very long time since anyone told me what to do!' 'It is advice only, senorita!' 'Then you won't mind if I ignore it, will you? I really must go now. John is quite right. William will be champing at the bit!'

'Your horse, senorita?' He looked down at her scornfully and she managed a scathing look of her own. 'William is the man in my life, senor!' 'Your husband?' He glowered down at her and she managed a laugh, her small, white, even teeth perfect against the coral of her lips. 'No such thing, Senor Carreras. We merely live together!' He didn't look particularly surprised. 'He lends you out for the evening, senorita? Is he not consumed with jealousy to know that you are out with Sir John, dancing with other men?' 'We live our own separate lives. It's a good arrangement,' Sara said tartly, 'but I really don't like to worry him. Goodnight, Senor Carreras.' He did not reply, and she turned at the door for a last look at him. She knew she would never see him again and she was glad of that but, even so, it was hurtful in a strange sort of way. Nobody had ever disliked her on sight before. She could understand his disdain when he thought she was merely hunting for money, but he had disliked her even before she had opened her mouth. Irritation had flared across his face almost as soon as he had seen her. Now, he thought that she was living with a man, and she had taken great pleasure in confirming that belief. Living with William! Her lips curved into a smile of amusement. If William had heard the mighty senor tonight, he would have taken his stick to him! He would probably take it to her too when she got home and confessed where she had been. Her cousin William disapproved of this almost as much as Senor Carreras did, but for entirely different reasons.

William knew that, far from chasing wealth, she was trying to make sure that wealth did not force itself upon her. Not this wealth! Not her grandmother's money! It was a bitterly cold evening, but the chill she felt was deep inside as she thought of her grandmother and her mother. She would never see Senor Jaime Carreras again, and she wished she had never heard of Mexico. 'Arrogant chap!' John muttered bad-temperedly, and she could only agree. But Carreras had been more than that. He had frightened her into thinking that she would not get into Mexico, and she had to! There was a promise to keep. Somehow, she could go there, and time was short. Sara sat back in the warmth of John's car and thought back to that morning when she had inherited this problem. The letter had been there when she had come downstairs to breakfast, and William had been sitting at the table, observing it sombrely. 'Letter from your grandmother's solicitors, by the look of it,' he informed her with a quizzical look. 'You'll have to open it and face the facts,' he added when she simply poured her tea, ignoring the long white envelope. William could be very firm when he wanted, and Sara looked at him defiantly for only a second longer before reaching out her slim hand and taking the envelope from the table. 'What the hell! It's only a piece of paper! It can't leap up and bite me!' 'Sensible girl,' William encouraged quietly, his good-natured face beaming at her with that fatherly expression he reserved for his most favoured pupils.

She smiled across at him and opened the letter, but her courage failed her at the first line. 'As you were not present at the reading of the will, we feel it essential that you are acquainted with the following facts.. 'Read it, William! I can't!' She pushed the letter across and he gave her one of his wry looks before reading it through in silence as she sipped anxiously at her tea, asking herself why she should be getting so desperate about a mere letter. There was nothing that could touch her, nothing that could hurt her again—she was with William! She had always been close to her cousin William, and after her mother had died it was the most natural thing in the world that they should have pooled their resources and taken this little house. William taught at the local school, and Sara could get a train from here to London with no difficulty, to be at her desk in the bank in good time. They were company for each other and quite content to leave things as they were. They were both bruised by life in their separate ways. William had been lame from birth—not any severe disfigurement, simply one leg slightly shorter than the other, which meant that he had to use a stick constantly. He was a handsome man, blessed by the family colouring: the wild, tawny hair and the deep blue eyes. His driving ambition was to open a school of his own, a very special school for handicapped children. Sara was devoted to William. She felt safe with him. He never tried to alter her or crush her sparkling nature. The woman who had tried that was gone now.

'Do you want the lot, or a brief résumé?' William asked softly as he finished reading. 'Briefly, please.' Sara's hands gripped her cup tightly, her eyes intent on his face. 'Briefly then, and in normal as opposed to legal terms, the whole of your grandmother's estate goes to your father. If he should still be missing six months from the dating of this letter, he will be presumed dead, as he has been missing for so long. In this event, the lot comes to you. That's it in a nutshell.' 'No!' Sara leapt to her feet, her face white and furious. 'She can't do this to me! She knew very well how I felt! It's all to spite Mother!' 'Sara, love, they're both dead! Are you suggesting that there's a grudge that goes on after death? Be fair! You're the only surviving relative. If your father is dead, then naturally you get the lot.' 'He's not dead!' Sara exclaimed bitterly, beginning to pace restlessly about. 'He's where he's been for the last twenty years, in his wretched Mexico, doing what he wants to do with no thought for either mother or me!' 'He hasn't been heard of for years,' William reminded her quietly. 'With a man who was once so famous, it's reasonable to suppose that he's no longer alive.' 'Nothing is reasonable with him!' Sara stormed, her deep blue eyes flashing. 'Was it reasonable to go off and leave his wife and baby with his mother? Was it reasonable to never come back? He wasn't dead then! He was in all the papers. My mother kept the cuttings!' '1 can understand her bitterness, Sara, but she passed it on to you. Nobody should have that kind of legacy.'

'I promised, I vowed when she was dying that I would never, ever have one penny of Grandmother's money!' 'It was a promise she had no right to extract from you, Sara. Bitterness can turn somebody into a person who's unrecognisable. It's corrosive. It eats away at the soul.' 'We only had each other!' Her eyes were filled with tears now, bitter tears, and he looked at her evenly. 'Oddly enough, old thing, I always thought that you had me,' he reminded her quietly, and it melted her anger instantly. 'Oh, William! I'm sorry!' 'Humble apologies accepted. Get your breakfast or you'll miss the train,' he advised with a grin. 'I have it!' Her sudden exclamation a few seconds later had William's eyes intently on her again. 'I'll go out to Mexico and get my father! I'll make him come and accept the money! At the very least, I'll get any necessary signatures!' She smiled triumphantly at William, and he looked at her as if she was hopelessly mad. 'Sheer nonsense! You have five minutes to get ready or you'll miss that train!' William was against it. The arrogant Senor Carreras was against it. But Sara knew that it had to be done. 'What—er—plans have you now, Sara?' John asked as he drew up to her house. 'I mean, now that Carreras has scotched that one?' 'I don't know, John.' She smiled briefly, tired and very disturbed by what could only be described as a catastrophic evening.

'If I think of anything, I'll be in touch,' he said helpfully. 'Somehow or other we'll have to get you to Mexico and get a guide. Dreadful thought that you should lose all that money! Not to worry, old thing, I'm sure you'll get the cash!' 'Yes, I'll have to get there,' she said brightly as she got out. As to the having the money, he only had part of the story; he was as ignorant of the truth as Carreras. 'Over my dead body!' she muttered, going inside, and out of the bitterly cold night. William was in bed and Sara went quietly to her room. This evening's little debacle she would keep to herself; time enough to tell William when she had got herself a guide. Nothing would stop her from doing that!

CHAPTER TWO THE DAY after the ball, the bitter cold continued, and Sara knew there would soon be snow. It was a grey, miserable day, matching exactly how she felt inside. That morning she had had cross words with William, and they had both gone to their separate jobs without making it up at all. She hated to quarrel with him. He was more than a cousin to her, he was her lifelong friend, and the depression she felt was hard to shrug off; but he would not give ground at all about her idea of going to find her father. Last night's fiasco had depressed her, too. She had hardly slept at all. Every time she closed her eyes the image of Jaime Carreras swam into her inner vision as she built up resentment against him. She was still smarting from the cruel lash of his tongue, his arrogance rankling. He was not very easy to dismiss from her thoughts, and she writhed in annoyance as she thought of many things she could have said—the pique of hindsight! She didn't know him, would never see him again, and it was ridiculous that she felt so affronted by his opinion of her. Of course, she could have blurted out the whole of her story! She could have told him about the powerful grandmother who had ruled both her own life and her mother's after Hector Lawrence had gone back to his real love—old ruins! How finally they had become totally dependent on her, and that she had not realised the true state of affairs until almost too late. It was none of his business! All she had wanted was a guide, and she was prepared to pay out the last of her savings to get one. If he thought himself so important that he could stop her, then he was mistaken! He was power-mad! She tried to dismiss him from her thoughts, but he refused to go, his haughty image reinforcing her smouldering feelings of resentment towards his country.

Once again, she used John Culver, phoning him during her lunch break to see if he could find out where the delegation from Mexico were staying. She had not by any means managed to get round to them all last night. If she were to drop on one of them unexpectedly, to surprise them into giving her information or even one name, she would be quite satisfied. John rose to the occasion and in the afternoon he telephoned. They were at the Phoenix.

Four-thirty found her outside the hotel, trying to gather the courage to go in and ask for room numbers. It was almost dark and bitterly cold but, faced with the necessary evil of walking boldly in and spinning a plausible tale, she hesitated, realising that she did not have as much nerve as she had thought. She paced about a little, rehearsing a variety of possible excuses to get in there, and the voice that spoke almost in her ear startled her into immobility. 'You are waiting for me, Senorita Lawrence?' She spun round and found herself looking into two glittering eyes that seemed to be uncertain whether to be furiously annoyed or highly amused, as Jaime Carreras planted his tall frame in front of her and shocked her into silence. She just knew that her mouth was open! 'It is astonishing that you have succeeded in catching me!' he remarked smoothly. 'I have merely been paying a visit. Naturally, Senor Perez and I are staying at the Savoy!' Naturally! Sara gulped down her shock and geared herself for battle.

'I am not waiting for you, Senor Carreras!' she snapped, a little of the colour coming back into her face, 'and if I caught you I would drop you rapidly, believe me!' 'Like—how do you say—a hot potato?' he enquired silkily, confounding her by his knowledge of the finer points of the English insult. 'Did you know, senorita, that the Mexican Trade Delegation are staying at this hotel?' he asked with a mocking inflection in his deep voice. 'Is it not astonishing that you find yourself here and I find myself encountering you outside this place?' 'I—I happen to be waiting for somebody!' Sara said quickly, having more colour in her face now than she required. 'And he is late. How frustrating for you!' he purred smoothly. 'At least while you wait, allow me to help you in some small way. To waste time is criminal!' Before she could protest he had taken her arm in a deceptively gentle grasp; how to get into the hotel was no longer a problem, for he almost marched her to the reception desk. 'You know, I expect, that the Mexican Trade Delegation are staying here?' he enquired politely of the startled man at the desk. 'Of course, Senor Carreras!' 'Then I wish you to take a good look at this young lady,' he insisted, turning to look at Sara's bewildered face. 'She is not to be admitted to the hotel while my fellow countrymen are here. Otherwise, there will be— repercussions, you understand!' The threat was polite and quiet, most reasonable, and it took all of three seconds before Sara's face flamed with humiliation. The man at the desk seemed to be memorising her appearance, no doubt marking

her as an enemy agent, and Jaime Carreras leaned against the desk, his dark eyes laughing, his firm lips quirking with amusement as she stormed off into the gathering dusk. She outwitted him, however. She telephoned the hotel that very evening, and had quite a pleasant conversation with a man whose strongly accented voice informed her that guides would be no problem, it could all be arranged before she even left Mexico City. The cost varied, depending upon the length of the expedition, the equipment needed and the danger involved, but it could be sorted out within an hour, no problem at all. Her glee was more because she had got the better of one tall and arrogant Mexican, than because her journey could soon begin—and she readily admitted that! She was stunned, therefore, the next day to hear his voice in the bank a little before lunch time, but her mind sorted itself out into astonishment and embarrassment mixed with great vexation when she looked up and saw him talking to the manager. He had found out! She might have known! 'Ah, Miss Lawrence!' Mr Partridge came across to her desk and actually beamed down at her. 'You should have told me that you had a luncheon date with Senor Carreras. You could have left much earlier!' 'I—er -' Sara stared in bewilderment, acknowledging defeat as her eyes met the black and intent gaze of Jaime Carreras. If she argued here he would only make her look a fool. 'It—er—it's not quite lunch time.' 'Never mind, Miss Lawrence! Go now, by all means. Take the rest of the day off. You don't look at all well!' She was almost bundled open-mouthed out of the bank, certain that had she tried to re-enter she would have found the doors locked

against her. The man at her side was not in any way troubled by her disconcertion. He, it seemed, was intent upon bundling her into his car, a great black Mercedes that stood parked outside the bank. 'It's a no-parking zone!' she said furiously and idiotically. 'Bank security and...' 'The only thing in the bank that I wanted to steal was you,' he said evenly, almost tipping her into the warmth of the car. 'Now I have you, we will pull away and no harm done.' 'You think you can have anything, don't you?' she cried bitterly. 'You have no right to interfere with my affairs! You've made me look a fool at the bank! I...' 'That is not so,' he said quietly, pulling smoothly into the traffic. 'I have raised your prospects considerably. You are the girl who knows Carreras. The manager will be at your feet from now on, in case you report his conduct to me.' 'Money isn't everything!' she raged, clenching her hands in her lap to stop herself from attacking him. 'I'll never live this down, and I don't even know you! Mr Partridge is an—an ogre! I have problems enough without you!' 'Money is a useful commodity, so useful that you are intent upon a foolish adventure to get some yourself,' he said impatiently. 'It was not money that turned your Mr Partridge into an early Father Christmas, however— it was power.' 'And you think you have plenty of that!' Sara snapped, feeling on the edge of tears with annoyance. 'Where do you imagine you're taking me?'

'Somewhere that is quiet, so that I can talk to you!' he said irascibly. 'It is, as you pointed out, a little early for lunch, and I do not intend to suffer the embarrassment of having you shrilly chastise me in a quiet restaurant! The park would perhaps be suitable. Should you wish to behave like a virago, I will at least be able to pretend that you are not with me!' Chastise! He had done that to her on sight! Sara felt close to explosion. 'I've been kidnapped from my place of work!' she began in a suitably calm voice, irritated beyond words that his remarks had robbed her of the liberty of yelling into his haughty ear. 'You may turn around and take me back to the bank!' 'Were I to do that,' he assured her quietly, 'I would merely wait outside for you, and no doubt you would be interrogated about this strange state of affairs by your ogre! I would have come for you earlier, but it has taken me rather a long time to discover where you were. I intend to speak to you, at length if necessary, and there is no avoiding it, senorita.' There was a finality about his voice that quite robbed her of speech, a disdain towards her personal wishes that made her look at him in stunned silence. She felt, for the moment, helpless. Anyone who ever had to rely on this man's good nature would need a skin like a rhino! 'Here will do,' he remarked coolly, pulling into the side of the road. 'We can enter the park through those gates. There is no hurry, as you have the rest of the day off, and I intend to make things extremely clear to you so that we will have no further need to meet and discuss your behaviour!' Sara took a deep breath, her face white with rage, but he totally ignored her, getting out and coming to help her out, too.

'Come!' he said, and it was all that he did say. Outside the park there were a few passers-by, and he would not want to be seen with her, of course! She set off in front of him. There were a few things that she wanted to tell him, too, and it would not be a good idea to have interested spectators, she also had pride! There were still a few dead leaves lining the path through the park, unhappy-looking things that only emphasised the cold, grey weather, and Sara stepped out briskly, her collar turned up against the bitter wind. 'There are few people in the park,' he said into the silence, apparently imagining that he could make normal conversation until they arrived at the designated chastisement point! She shrugged, keeping her head down and marching on. 'They have more sense than to come here to get their ears frozen off!' 'You are very cold?' He stopped her, taking her arm and swinging her towards him. 'If I can be assured of your good behaviour, I will gladly take you to lunch.' 'I do not wish to eat with you!' Sara snapped, pulling her arm free from his grasp. 'I have no wish to talk to you either, but rather than have you continually haunting me, I'll stand here and talk!' 'Very well!' He was stiffly proper, and it occurred to Sara that perhaps he was offended at her refusal to eat with him; more likely, though, it was her attitude of insubordination that irritated. 'I am about to warn you for the very last time, Senorita Lawrence, of the dangers of pursuing your present course. To ask me to take you to your father was perhaps ill-advised, but at least it was safe. Many people may offer their services, few will be trustworthy. Once in the mountains, you will be helpless. That is my first objection. The other is about your father. For fifteen years he has been back in my

country, and for many years now he has been quite away from civilisation. How do you imagine he is? What do you imagine he will look like? He has left his own people, his wife, his daughter and his friends. He has nothing in common with his own countrymen at all. Even his English will be rusty, unused for years. Leave him to end his days in peace!' Sara felt a momentary pang of pity, a glimpse of a man who was utterly alone. But he had not been forced into that life, he had chosen it. Her mother had been left with no choice at all! There was her vow! Her father was a stranger, but her promise to her mother was real, still burning inside her. 'I told you once, senor, that you didn't understand,' she said quietly, looking up into the dark, handsome face, into the night-black eyes that watched her intently. 'I must go and find my father. There are papers that he has to sign.' 'So! Money and the search for it dictates all your actions!' he blazed, his eyes fiery with anger. 'You will disturb an old man and place your life at risk in order to gain money! It is more easily gained, senorita! With your looks, your figure, it should not take long at all! You are living with a man; live with someone who is wealthy!' 'Someone like you, you mean?' Sara exploded, her face flushed with anger, her blue eyes sparkling and wide. For a second, he stood looking down at her, his body peculiarly still as his eyes flashed over her wildly angry face. 'Why not?' he murmured sardonically. 'When you are not raging you are beautiful. I have never possessed an English girl. Are you available, senorita?'

There was no thought behind Sara's action, only humiliation and blind rage. Her hand flashed up and delivered a stinging slap to the handsome, tormenting face of this Mexican who imagined he could stand here and insult her. He stood perfectly still, not even rocking with the blow, and then rage such as she had never seen filled the dark eyes, and before she could move he had her tightly in his arms, his furious eyes blazing down at her. 'You were warned of reprisals!' he grated harshly. 'I will now teach you what a reprisal is!' His mouth came down on hers, stifling her cry in a kiss that crushed her lips and jarred through her whole body. Cruelty and anger were the twin driving forces behind it, and the power of it made her feel faint and terrified. It only lasted for seconds, but when he lifted his head Sara felt degraded, locked in iron-strong arms that even now did not release her. He looked down into her eyes, a strange light burning deep in the blackness of his gaze, and then his hand lifted, his finger tracing her lips, parting them as she stared at him in horror. 'You are very troublesome,' he said softly. 'Whatever you think of me, I am not normally cruel. There is something in you, I think, that brings out the worst in me. We are all savages at heart.' His strong, lean fingers slid to her cheek, stroking it lightly, then cupping it in his warm palm as he lifted her face and caught her lips with his, the whole park cold and empty around them. This time there was an unexpected gentleness, and he drew her against him so completely that the breath left Sara's body like a bird taking flight. Frightening shafts of sexual awareness pierced her as

his mouth invaded hers with sensual intensity. Blind, hungry need struck through her as his hands stroked her face, the kiss seemingly endless. When he finally let her go, she was trembling all over, speechless! Belatedly she realised that her eyes were closed, and when she opened them he was looking down at her with disdainful satisfaction, his arms no longer holding her. 'If you should ever become available, senorita,' he said derisively, 'telephone the Embassy. They will be able to contact me, and I have enough money for both of us.' He stepped away, his firm lips quirking with amusement. 'Does—William kiss you like that, senorita?' he asked silkily, and then he turned and walked off, leaving her stunned and stranded in the park. The following day he was in the papers, on the front page. He had been called back to Mexico, some banking crisis. She read it carefully, just to make sure he had gone, her eyes lingering on the compelling photograph that accompanied the article. An unexpected shiver flared over her skin...the kiss, that kiss, still too real to be brushed aside. And then she quickly folded the paper, turning his face inwards, out of her sight. She was rid of him! She could get on with her plans!

Everything was going well, almost too well. In view of William's grave doubts about the scheme, Sara felt very much on edge, but so far there had been no snags at all. She had managed a flight to Mexico with no trouble, and had even managed to charter this small and rather tatty-looking plane to fly her out to the mountains. The

pilot was no more impressive then his plane, but it was all she could afford, even though she had the distinct impression that he was flying by the seat of his pants, as it were, and not paying very much attention to any instruments. It didn't matter. She was committed to this. She was keeping her promise. The plane was heading straight for the mountains, following a dry riverbed that ran through a valley carved here long before the land had been ruled by Spain, even before the mighty civilisation of the Aztecs had stamped its mark on this country. Below it was hazy, the houses tiny doll-like buildings in a rolling landscape edged by high mountains. Above, the sky was a bright, cloudless blue, a backcloth of colour for the small, silvery plane. She had not yet managed to get a guide. Someone would volunteer closer to her destination, she had been told, and it reminded her with a twinge of anxiety about Jaime Carreras and his warnings three months ago. Three months! It seemed to be much longer than that. Now, flying closer every minute to the place where she would hire a guide to take her to her father, she realised that she had lived such a long time within three months. There had been leave from the bank to arrange, papers to get from reluctant solicitors, and above all there had been William, who for the first time ever had actually stormed at her, flatly refusing to be reasonable. For a second, her face clouded with sadness, but then she pulled herself out of it as she had pulled herself out of things for most of her life. She was here! This was where she wanted to be for now. This was where she would find her father, get his signature and get the whole business sorted out. She would make her peace with William later, but for now she was here to make sure that her father accepted the inheritance and that she received not one penny. Her mother's last wishes would then be granted, and maybe she would be able to forget

and live her life without doubts and regrets. She would see the sort of man her father was, nail that particular ghost once and for all, and then she never wanted to even hear the name Mexico ever again in her life. The agitated murmurings of the pilot brought her back to the present, and she looked out of the window, gasping in shock. There was nothing to see! Where minutes before she had looked up and seen the towering height of the mountains, there was now nothing. Fog surrounded the plane, fastening them into a grey shroud, filling the cabin with eerie light and changing the tone of the engines. 'How long before we land?' She could hear the anxiety in her own voice, and had no doubt that the Mexican at the controls heard it, too. 'Soon, Senorita Lawrence. Very soon.' She realized he was trying hard to be calm for her benefit, but there was too much anxiety in his own voice to make her feel in any way reassured. 'Can you land the plane in this fog?' 'No, senorita! However, do not be alarmed. These mists come rapidly in the mountains and as rapidly depart. I know where we are.' Sara bit her lip anxiously. She also knew where they were, but that was no help. She silently berated herself for not having got a better plane when she'd been chartering one. This, though, was all she could afford. There had been the ticket out, the money for her hotel, there would be a guide to pay, and already her meagre savings would be spent. She had enough to get there and get back, and then she was

broke. She would probably lose her job, too. And all to get rid of money! It was, as William had said, ridiculous! 'Do not be alarmed, Senorita Lawrence. The fog will soon clear!' He was saying it like a prayer, and Sara did what he was doing; she stared out into the fog. He, though, was searching for the ground, looking again for the dried bed of the river, searching for some landmark like a pilot of some old plane when flight was new. No doubt his instruments were unusable, or unreadable to him! Sara was staring ahead, her mind on the terrifying proximity of the mountains, expecting at any second to see them rearing out of the blanket of fog to invite the flimsy craft to its doom. Suddenly the fog cleared; not totally, but well enough to give them some warning of their fate. They were not near the mountains, they were in the mountains! They were flying, by some miracle, between the sheer, harsh walls of rock, the small plane seeming to have guided itself into this narrow passage. Things of no importance filled her mind. It was not, as she had supposed, black or grey forbidding rock. There were trees here, stunted and struggling it was true, but they clad the mountain walls with greenery and brief splashes of colour. They were too low, and she knew that they would never be able to climb the steep walls at the end of the canyon. It was the end of her search, and a fatalistic numbness invaded her limbs as she stared ahead. They soared up though, the pilot praying fervently in his own language as the small and battered plane reached to the clear blue sky. They almost made it. They were so close to the rock face at the very top that she could see the shadow of the plane as closely as one sees a shadow on the pavement when walking down a sunny street, and they cleared the top, skimming the trees on the further side, a side that was thickly forested with tall pine trees.

It seemed, though, that the heart had gone from the small plane. The engine stalled and spluttered, kicked into life again to renew hope uselessly, and then died. There was the sound of the wind to remind her of the speed of their descent, the growing reality of tall trees and then the sound of buckling metal, crashing branches and nothing more as some great blow seemed to be aimed at her head and the sunny day became empty, lifeless and dark.

It might have been the tearing poise of the explosion that brought her round from the depths of unconsciousness; she did not know. Whatever it was, she awoke in time to see the enormous flash that followed the blast, and to see the debris flying across the clearing— metal, charred leather and innumerable small things flung into the air, to be lost for ever. Only the fact that she was sheltered by an outcrop of rock saved her from further injury as, for frightening seconds, the air was filled with danger. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it was over. There was the crackle of fire, drifting smoke, and she raised her head carefully to look over the rocks that had saved her life. Pain, fierce and savage, blinding and nauseating, washed over her, making her moan, her hands coming to her head as the pain momentarily blacked out her sight. There was blood on her fingers when she looked at them, blood from her head, and she knew she had been injured in the crash, although she had no memory of it. The plane was hanging in the trees, suspended about several feet above the ground, and flames rose from it to engulf the treetops with brilliant red and yellow tongues of destruction, the heat from it suddenly focusing her attention as a wild kind of panic shot through

her. There was no sign of the pilot. She could see around the clearing. Fate had given her the only tall outcrop of rocks. Either he was dead and in the burning plane, or he had staggered clear and was somewhere in the forest. Whatever his fate had been, she was now alone, and the need to get away from those searing flames drove her to her feet. There was no one here to help her. She grasped the rocks, noticing with an almost detached interest that there was blood on her arm too, as well as mud and grass stains. Her skirt was torn and one shoe was missing altogether, but it did not matter. To get to her feet was an effort that seemed at first to be beyond her capabilities. The whole forest seemed to sway and turn, adding to her feeling of nausea, but she knew she must move as far and as fast as she could. It was unlikely that anyone would find her here, but it would be better to die beneath the cool pine trees than to die in the spreading blaze from the plane. She had moved a long way when she finally fell for the last time and rolled down a steep slope, coming to a stop by the trunk of a mighty tree, a tree that seemed to have been there since time began. Turning her aching head, she could see a mountain, soaring and imperious, a long way off, visible owing to its sheer size. It looked across the land and seemed to frown on her, its mighty head capped with snow. A faint rise of smoke came from the summit and slowly, dreamily, she realised that it was a volcano. It seemed to have an awareness, its attention directed at her alone, and the thought came to her mind that she would never leave this land, that she would die here beneath the trees, the great god of the mountain watching mercilessly. Blackness entered her mind, wiping out pain and distress, terror and loneliness, as her head became still and she lay in the forest like a pale and slender sacrifice to the whitehaired god of the mountain.

He stood at the crest of the hill, his eyes scanning the precipitous slope. There was no expression on the handsome, dark face, no flicker of feeling in the black and intelligent eyes. She was here and he would find her. There had been no sign of her near to the burnedout wreckage of the plane, her body not close to the pilot's. She must have been flung clear, because there had been no evidence whatever that she had died in the fire when the plane had exploded and burned. He glanced at his watch. Four hours! Not long when the terrain was so difficult and rocky, but long enough when injuries were severe. She had been capable of movement, and that was the hope. The rescue party was split into groups, searching the higher slopes, expecting to find her dead, but he had chosen to descend, some certainty in his mind that she would move downhill, though the going was hard even for anyone well equipped for the task. She would have suffered on these slopes— if she had survived at all. He thrust the thought from his mind and moved further out into the heat of the afternoon sunlight. It was the volcano that brought her to his attention. She was lying at the foot of a tree at the very bottom of the steep gradient that opened into the sharply inclined clearing, and the tree seemed to be a finger of warning pointing to the sky and to the soaring grandeur of the white-capped mountain. So far, the sun had not touched her, for she was still in the shadow of the branches, only the bright colour of her hair making her clearly visible. A slight frisson of alarm raced through him, a feeling that he had not experienced since childhood. 'When the gods have chosen, let no man intrude!' The words rang in his mind. He had heard it often in the villages of the Indians and smiled at it, ignored it, but now it had a sinister ring, no longer amusing.

He thrust such thoughts away and moved down towards her, his movements economical and swift, his dark eyes on her glowing hair. She was breathing, very shallow breaths it was true, but she was alive. The bright hair, coloured like the leaves of autumn, was tangled and streaked with blood, the colour somehow shocking against the tawny blaze of her hair. He knelt quickly to feel her pulse, his fingers on the slender column of her neck, his hand lingering to satisfy himself that the slight pulse was indeed there. She had taken a blow to the temple and she was a mass of minor cuts and bruises, but otherwise she seemed to be all right. It was miraculous that this slip of a girl could walk away from a crash like that. He stood, unclipping the two-way radio from his belt and raising the aerial. 'I have found her! Move south in a direct line with the plane. Hurry with that stretcher.' 'She is alive, Jaime?' The radio crackled into life as the question was asked, and he frowned, his dark face darkening even further. 'Yes. She needs treatment, though. Hurry, por Dios!' He slammed the aerial back into place, fastening the radio back out of his way, his eyes drawn again to the white-capped volcano, in spite of his ready dismissal of it before, and he did not see the deep blue eyes open.

He seemed to be towering over her like a god, a god in a khaki bush shirt with shoulder tabs, with matching trousers that fitted tightly across his lean hips, high boots that protected his strong legs, and all

that Sara could see of the man was the darkness of his skin, the utter midnight-black of his hair, and she sighed. Help had come, after all. 'I'm hurt.' It was not a complaint but a whispered statement, the voice little more than a breath, shadowy and low. 'I never thought that anyone would come.' At the sound of her voice he spun round to look down at her, and then dropped to one knee, his dark eyes piercingly intent on her pale face as her eyes closed again. His voice too was low, but commanding. 'Sara!' He said her name with all the sound of authority, ordering her back to consciousness, and the effect was electric. The deep blue eyes shot open as she pulled herself from the soothing darkness that eased the pain. 'You!' She tried to move, to sit up, but his hand was hard and impelling on her arm, forbidding such movement. 'No! Oh, no!' Further colour drained from her face until she was chalky-white, and as he made a swift movement towards her she slid back into unconsciousness, escaping from him in the best way possible, the only way.

CHAPTER THREE SARA spent her time in a state of unreality. The shock of the accident had left her slightly disoriented, and concussion added to the feeling. She was somewhat battered and bruised, and at first had needed painkilling drugs, but she was strong and determined, pulling herself back to health as quickly as possible, still marvelling that she had escaped so lightly from the crash. She still did not remember the impact, but the rest was clear. At first when she had come round, she had imagined that her glimpse of Jaime Carreras had been a moment's nightmare brought on by shock, but she was now no longer in the stiff white hospital gown, she was in a beautiful satin nightdress, one of several that she seemed to have acquired, and she had a dreadful conviction that her benefactor was the tall, arrogant Mexican, and that one day soon she would be expected to account for her misdoings. Her questions about this and any other thing brought only smiles and regretful shrugs. Nobody spoke English, it seemed, and this only added to the feeling that she was under threat. She had no doubts about the source of that particular feeling. The name Carreras had become mixed up in her mind with the country, with Mexico, the place she had known of for most of her life and had hated for years with a fierce hatred that, deep inside, she knew was illogical. The fact that her father had chosen to desert his wife and child for this land was not in any way the fault of the land itself, it was a fault of her father, but the anger and pain that the name brought to her was far beyond the bounds of logic, and the outrageous behaviour of Jaime Carreras had only added to it. Now she was in his land, and for the moment she was helpless. The sound of the door opening made her look round sharply, the quick movement adding to the pain already in her head. She expected

to see only the doctor, but this time her dread was fully realised and she stifled her quick burst of fear as her gaze fell on the tall, dark figure of the man who strode uninvited into the room. Of course, she had known that he would come. After all, she had disobeyed him. Now was the day of reckoning! 'Ah! You are fully awake this time!' There was a rather cruel satisfaction in his voice that made her tighten up inside even further, and he looked at her with unreadable dark eyes. 'You may speak. I know that you are almost recovered, miraculous though that seems to me. I have kept an eye on your progress from a discreet distance, knowing that you were safely trapped. There is nobody here who understands English, therefore there is no one to help you with busy plans.' The information was sardonic, and there was a tone of cold amusement in his voice as he walked slowly to the bed and spoke again. 'Why are you surprised to see me? You did not imagine that I would leave you to your fate? You lost everything in the fire when the plane burned. You would have me abandon you to the care of strangers?' The pallor of her face deepened, but the blue eyes that met his were defiant. 'What do you mean, abandon me?' She fought down the rather desperate feeling of being in a net, and met his gaze with her head high, painful though it was. 'I'm nothing to you! I would certainly rather be left to strangers than be at your mercy!' He seemed to find her words amusing, although his eyes were certainly not smiling.

'I have very little mercy as far as you are concerned, senorita,' he informed her coolly. 'I warned you of the dangers of a lone trip to this country. I also told you that you would find that all roads lead to Carreras. You now see that they do. When you are able to leave the hospital, you will come to me.' His gaze was almost hypnotic, and fear flared up inside her. 'No! I don't want to!' She was trying to fight this, her mind in a turmoil as she saw the hard satisfaction on his face, but he merely smiled, a cold gesture that went no further than his lips. 'Of course you do! That is why I am here. You are not as badly injured as we feared, but you are still shocked. For the next few days you must stay here and be cared for. When you are better, I will collect you!' 'I have no intention of coming to you or being anywhere near you!' she snapped, her head aching with the effort. It was hard to concentrate, to be firm, but she was fairly certain that if she did not fight her way out of this now she would never be able to. 'Really?' The black eyes flashed with sardonic amusement. 'Where else would you go? You have chosen to bring yourself to my country, to place yourself in a position where you are in desperate need of help. Who else is there to help you? After all, we are not strangers.' 'I wish to God that we were!' she blazed, and the effort almost had her dizzy. Her blue eyes flared at him, and for the first time he smiled, his dark, handsome face wryly amused, a quizzical sparkle in their black depths. 'You must rest. Believe me, you are safe. When you are better I will attend to all your problems. Perhaps I will even allow you to return to England.'

She looked at him quietly, her eyes narrowed with pain and frustration, her face now faintly flushed. For a second, her lips trembled, and she took a small breath that clearly hurt her. 'I intend...' 'Your intentions are very clear to me, senorita,' he said softly. 'Perhaps I should also make my intentions clear to you. You have been a nuisance and a disturbing influence from the moment that I met you. You have discarded advice which was carefully given. You have made it quite plain that your only aim in life is to chase wealth, and you have done that wilfully and dangerously!' He took a threatening step closer, 'I rescued you, senorita!' he reminded her. 'I knew that you were coming and I knew where you would land! Had I not known, you would now be lying in the forest below the mountains, and you would probably be dead, for few people go there!' The black eyes narrowed to points of fire. 'You were wily enough to follow your selfish path regardless of others, in spite of my intervention, senorita,' he finished quietly. 'Then, of course, I was in your country. Now, you are in mine!' 'You—you wouldn't dare!' She stared at him, trapped by the black, glittering gaze, a panic-stricken huskiness in her voice. 'I do not recall having threatened anything at all, senorita,' he said with a cruelly amused look, 'but if your mind is dwelling on the past, then I did offer you an alternative source of wealth. You are now conveniently close, and of course, the offer is still open. You could look around, consider other offers, but I very much doubt if you will find anyone with a fortune to match mine!' She stiffened in anger, and only the realisation that he did not mean it, but was merely trying to make her feel shame, kept fright from her eyes. 'You're disgusting!'

'I have been called many things, senorita,' he said with raised brows, 'but never disgusting. I do not recall feeling disgust in you when I kissed you.' She blushed furiously, suddenly unable to meet his eyes. It was hurting her to battle, and he seemed to realise it, because he withdrew some of the intensity that had been about him. 'Go to sleep!' he ordered with a softening of his tone. 'I will see you tomorrow. Perhaps soon they will release you into my care. It cannot be too comfortable for you here in this small and barren, hospital. We are still too close to the mountains for any luxurious medical care, but they know what they are about or I would not have left you here. Still, it will be nice to have someone with you who can speak your own language, yes?' 'Providing that it's not you!' she managed, although she felt dizzy now and quite sick. He did not take the bait. Instead he suddenly laughed and walked to the door, his hand raised in a brief and indifferent farewell.

Several days later Sara was ready to leave, her immediate future in the strong and powerful hands of a man she had hoped never to see again, a man who had found her on a mountainside and taken charge of her life. She needed to get away from him fast, because there was a look of cold determination about him, and he was not the sort of man to swallow his pride when he had been disregarded. Carreras had brought her everything that she needed, carefully monitoring her progress so that he knew exactly when she was ready to leave, yet it had not been with any kindness. It had been with an

attitude of duty and a certain detachment that had left her feeling afraid after his brief visits. She sat on the edge of her bed, dressed and waiting, her heart taking on the usual hammering pace as he walked into the room. 'Ah! You are dressed and all ready to go?' Sara's face grew hot at the smokily smooth voice. Yes, she was dressed to leave, dressed in clothes that she could never have afforded herself. Every item of clothing that she possessed, every small luxury, had been provided by the tall Mexican who now regarded her with no expression whatever in his eyes. His face was burnished by the sun, hawklike and strong, the brilliant black of his eyes a compelling force that stemmed any kind of dissent. His black hair was thick, shining and utterly without wave. He was handsome, powerful and arrogant, and he frightened her, made her angry and wary. Common sense told her that he was a civilised man, a well-educated and well-known man, not able to follow his inclinations and insist that she stay with him and keep out of trouble, but she still remembered his fury, the hurtful words he had used. She still remembered his cold expectation of her compliance with his demands. Sara realised that she was staring up at him, probably like a rabbit watching a stoat or, in this particular case, like a deer watching a mountain lion. 'When you are quite ready!' he said caustically, clearly reading her expression and liking it not one bit. 'Or do you have worries—extra worries?'

'This is a very beautiful dress,' she said rather sharply, looking down at the flowing skirt of the dress in question, the sharp colours of the exquisite pattern holding her eyes. 'The shoes too are—are lovely.' 'You do not seem to be too happy about it.' His dark voice was not amused. 'You would have preferred to leave the hospital still dressed as you have been while in your bed? It can be arranged.' 'I didn't mean that at all! It—it's just that—that you seem to have been buying me a lot of things, and I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you.' 'Should you even think of it, I would be most annoyed!' He walked towards her and stood looking down into her face, a very beautiful face; even though she had lost weight during her stay in the hospital. 'Everything that you possessed in this country was lost in the fire. What would you have had me do?' He suddenly reached for her arm, his face rather irritated. 'Come, let us go! I trust that you are not about to be consumed with guilt every time I decide to buy something for you? You are in my care! Please take note of that word, because I intend to care for you. Naturally you will need to be clothed and fed.' He shot her a flashing, dark-eyed glance. 'Think of yourself as a little stray who is to be pampered—you will then get the picture.' She glared at him, but he wasn't even looking. That firm, sensuous mouth, those shuttered eyed told her that she was a nuisance, but that his mind was made up. 'You won't need to care for me!' she said sharply. 'All I need is the use of a telephone and someone who speaks English. I came here to

get to my father, and I intend to do just that. My own Embassy will help me!' The dark eyebrows raised sardonically as he watched her flushed and angry face with some amusement. 'You have great faith in your flag, senorita,' he murmured quietly. 'What should I say to you that will not dampen your spirits, except perhaps, "We will see"?' He suddenly tired of amusement and took her arm firmly, lifting up her new suitcase—another thing he had provided—and leading her out into the sunshine. It was astonishingly hot outside once the cool shade of the hospital was left behind, and she was glad to get into the dark, air-conditioned car that waited for them. Seated, and facing forward, she could see the towering height of a volcano, the mere size of it awesome, compellingly beautiful as it stood in mighty splendour against a backdrop of brilliantly blue sky. There was something fateful about it that frightened her, and her mind recognised her helplessness, the giant mountain sharpening her realisation that she was in an alien land, a cold stranger beside her., There was no sign of warmth in him, no comforting glimmer of gentleness or pity. The look on his face was one of dislike and, after all, it was only what she could have expected. Why was she going with him to a house she did not know? Surely it would be better to escape while she was here? But she had no passport, no papers, no money. There was no help here, nobody who spoke her language. She had tried that. She would have to change her plans, because deep inside she knew now that nobody but Jaime Carreras would help her to find her father, and he had said no in cold, insulting terms.

'Something is troubling you, senorita?' Carreras was watching her, the engine quietly idling, his powerful arm across the wheel as he sat sideways his eyes on her face. She looked into those eyes, not answering. They were like a midnight sky: bottomless, hypnotic, pitiless, the thick, glossy, black lashes curled against his skin, outlining the liquid darkness of his gaze. It was difficult to admit for somebody of her spirit, but he frightened her. 'I was wondering about your house, that's all,' she said quickly, feeling that she must hide her thoughts from him, thoughts that were now a turmoil inside her head because she had made up her mind that she would get him to take her to her father whether he liked it or not! He watched her for a minute with unreadable eyes. 'It is several miles away. My home is in the foothills. I believe that we have the best of both worlds there. You remember the mountain where I found you? It is hot under the sun but cold at night. Here in Mexico the climate is very variable, depending upon where you are. There are pine forests on the higher slopes of the mountains, snow that is permanent on the highest peaks, but come down to sea level and you have a tropical climate, like another world. My house is old, dating from the days of the Spanish rule, and it has been in my family for generations. The sooner that we get started, the sooner you will see it, and then you will understand exactly what I mean.' 'Do you live there alone?' she asked in a hurried, breathless little voice. His black eyes narrowed to focus sharply on her, making her want to duck her head in case he read her mind. 'You fear for your life?' he asked scathingly. 'You will be quite safe. There are servants enough to fall over should you not watch your step, but more than that, there are two other ladies there who are

under my protection.' He threw his head back and smiled wryly at her expression. 'Ah, no, I do not make a habit of collecting distressed females as others collect stamps! The two ladies are members of my family, in a manner of speaking. There is my stepmother and her daughter. They live with me permanently. So you see, there is really nothing to fear from me.' 'I don't... I never for one moment imagined that...' 'Oh, I did not think for one moment either that you feared rape and molestation. I do think_, however, that the idea of murder has drifted into your mind, or perhaps slavery?' He was so derisive, so cold. 'Or perhaps the greater evil of being permanently restrained and unable to get to your father? Be at peace, senorita,'' he urged with a sinister softness, 'I intend to take care of you and see that no harm whatever befalls you, only as long as is necessary. You told me that there was a time factor involved. We will wait out the time, then you may go. Meanwhile, I wish you to rest, be as happy as you can and get completely well.' 'I am well!' she said as firmly as she could. 'I know how I feel!' 'Perhaps I am speaking of the health of conscience!' he said tightly. 'We will not tread that particular path, senorita.' She stared up at him in a fury; she just couldn't help it. It was going to be impossible to pretend to be sweet and pleasant, and try to win him round to helping her. He was abominable, even if he was handsome as the devil! He was more than handsome, she thought, her eyes widening as she looked at him, more than striking. He was brilliantly alive, and there was a power about him that was compelling. If he were there, no other man would be noticed. The thought, unexpected as it was, brought a bright blush to her face, and his eyes narrowed quickly.

'Let us go!' he said suddenly, turning from his harsh contemplation of her face, her rapt expression. Apparently just looking at her angered him, and she knew that it would be difficult to get round this man, especially as she hated him! She turned away herself, tightly angry both with him and with her wayward mind. Carreras was the only one who could help her, and she knew that, but how could she get him to do it? He would blame her for every thought in her head, every word that came out of her mouth. Perhaps he even thought she had crashed on purpose? A wild little feeling of amusement shot through her, a light, hysterical feeling, and she turned away to hide her eyes, a sound of protest low in her throat at this unseemly need to laugh. He mistook it for fear. 'Save your terror, senorita!' he snapped, getting the car on the move. 'You have some time during which I shall consider you to be an invalid, a few days at least. It will give your agile mind some time in which to think of a plan!' 'I already have a plan, Senor Carreras!' she said bitingly. 'I need not explain it to you. You already know. I intend to find my father!' 'You may find that my plans interfere with this scenario!' he rasped. 'Your wings, senorita, are well and truly clipped. You are a bird in my hand, a captured magpie whom heaven disguises as a dove. The disguise, though, is not now important. It is the word "captured" that should dwell in your mind!' He accelerated with a force that was alarming, and she heard the deep breath in his voice, her brain trying to work out just how isolated they were, just how powerful he was, and whether the feelings inside her were fear or excitement.

The town where the hospital stood was built astride the main road, although it was stretching the imagination to call the road that, because it seemed to Sara to be merely a very wide track, dusty and potholed, with stones tossed up by passing vehicles lying like so many small traps along the whole length of it. It wound up into the hills, and in the distance she could see the hazy blue of a mountain range, rather alarming even from here. 'You can now see the mountains that rise behind my home,' Jaime said after a while, apparently having partly recovered from his attack of displeasure. 'They are in fact some distance away, but the view from the house is quite spectacular. You will be able to see them from your bedroom.' 'I've never seen mountains like that before,' Sara ventured quietly, trying to be very good, and earning herself a sharp glance. 'Certainly not in your own country,' he assured her. 'Mexico is a mountainous country, but in actual fact, we have everything— tropical beaches, lushly green lowlands and indeed, plenty of land. Unfortunately, much of it is straight upwards!' 'Don't you like the mountains?' She found herself watching him, noticing not for the first time the high forehead and the proudly jutting nose. There seemed to be nothing about him that would lead one to believe that he had any lenient tendencies in him, and once again she wondered why he had taken on the responsibility for her welfare simply to keep her from a man he did not now know. He was an influential man; certainly, he had made waves in London, and there had been a great flurry in the hospital every time he'd been due to arrive. He was rich and important, well known in other countries besides his own, and it would have been an easy matter for

him to have her put on a plane for England, to stop her from getting any permission to return. Could it mean that he intended some sort of revenge for her attitude to his advice? The idea was preposterous, but it came to her anyway. 'I love the mountains,' he answered quietly after a glance at her. 'There is peace there that is not found elsewhere. However, I rarely get the chance to simply roam at will in the mountains. If I am not in the city on business, then I am working among the Indians, often for months at a time.' 'Just reappearing when you want to!' she said a trifle starchily, irritated by his ability to do exactly as he liked, which included interfering in her affairs. 'There are those who would like it well if I never reappeared,' he said drily. 'If I had not been there when your small plane crashed though, senorita, you might never have been found, or you might have been left exactly as you lay, a beautiful tribute to the gods!' 'I've no doubt that the barbaric past is still very much to the fore here!' Sara said tartly, relaxing her attitude of amiability for a second. 'I cannot simply disappear, though. I'm a British citizen!' 'Proudly said!' he rasped sardonically. 'It is a long way to the glitter of the British Embassy when you are in the mountains here. Try to remember that!' His words silenced her. Her hands clenched in her lap, and she turned her head away stiffly. They were close to the mountains now, and she could see that they were not barren. Trees covered the lower slopes, and they climbed up until their heads were lost in the clouds. Beside the road too, flowers grew, brightly coloured and delicate, some she felt she should

recognise, their purples and pinks interspersed with brilliant yellow. They were growing wild, adding a soft beauty to the dusty roadside, taking away the stark fact that this was a neglected and lonely part of the world. 'The road is very rough,' she commented after a while, when it became apparent that he was not about to speak and the silence had become too much for her. 'Oh, we are forcing the main highway through, and soon, one day, it will reach here,' he said quietly. 'When it comes, the necessary evil of tourists will follow, I expect. One has to decide upon one's priorities. I accept the constant damage to my cars when the alternative is the type of progress that I can do without. I prefer solitude!' 'Like being in the Indian villages?' she intervened quietly, hearing a kind of sadness in his voice that she had never suspected could be there. 'Claro! It is my life. It is the way I have chosen to live .my life!' He spoke sharply, clearly not wanting to discuss his affairs with her, and certainly not wanting any softness. Sara knew that it would be better to keep quiet, and she turned back to her contemplation of the road as he also remained silent. There were small villages along their route, tidy and colourful places, and now the flowers were brilliant, a kaleidoscope of colour and luxury after the wild flowers left that grew beside the road. The walls of the houses were white, with purple blossom spilling to the ground and climbing to the roofs, and the walled gardens gave sudden and secret glimpses of rose bushes, vivid tulips, marigolds and fruits. But mountains now took all her attention—not just the majesty of them as they towered over the landscape, making her feel small and insignificant, but the relentless constancy. Mountain behind

mountain, each one higher than the other; they seemed to be endless, a barrier that was impassable. The road now wound its way upwards and a new anxiety entered her mind, taking away some of the awe of the view. They were travelling along a road that clung to the mountain wall, a sheer drop of hundreds of feet beside them, the road little more than a rough track, and her muscles tightened involuntarily. 'You are afraid?' He glanced quickly at her, and then fixed his eyes firmly on the road. 'I'll let you know!' said Sara in a tight voice, and suddenly he gave a quiet laugh, a mere chuckle of sound that was comfort and encouragement. 'It is a little nerve-racking, perhaps, for someone not accustomed to the mountains,' he agreed. 'When you have spent your whole life among them, you tend not to notice too much that there are chasms beside the road. You can close your eyes, of course.' 'No, thank you!' She took a deep breath and stopped trying to guess whether or not it was a mile down to the winding track of a dry riverbed that she could see below. 'With my eyes closed, I'll not know when we're going over!' 'I assure you that we are not going over,' he said. 'It is daylight and I am quite sober. There is nothing to fear except fear itself.' He looked at her with a sidelong glance of flashing dark eyes, and she nodded pertly to the road. 'Thank you for the invigorating speech. Please keep looking straight ahead.' He obeyed her at once, but his lips were still curved in a smile when he said quietly, 'I am not punishing you. I would have spared you this

if it had been possible, but there is no other way to approach the house. Very soon we shall see it.' 'Do you drive along here at night?' she asked in an awe-stricken voice, quite forgetting to be angry. It was alarming how she was beginning to feel a growing security from his presence. 'I have done, but it is not a good idea to drive at all at night in this part of the country. There are often unexpected obstacles. Even on the main road. A car breaks down and is abandoned, there are no lights, and you can be upon it before you realise the fact. Animals too have the habit of wandering about in the road at night. We tend to count the sundown as a time when the day is over as far as travelling is concerned. Even if we are flying in, we try to time our arrival for the hours of daylight.' 'You have a plane?' Why this should have astonished her she did not know. If he lived here, so far away from civilisation, then he would have to be able to get out of here fast whenever he needed to. Maybe he would fly her out of here? 'Si, my plane is kept at the small airfield just outside the town. I have a private secretary who lives with us at the house, and he also doubles as a pilot for me. I rarely fly myself. Normally I am too busy catching up on paperwork when 1 am travelling. 'Your secretary is a man?' Sara was secretly glad of that. For some reason she was very anxious about meeting the two women at the Carreras house, and the fact that there was another person living there too was a relief, especially as it was a man. She wasn't at all sure why the thought gave her comfort, but it did, nevertheless. Perhaps it was because there had been little happiness in her life, except for William.

'Most definitely! You will probably like him, as he is unlike me!' he snapped, relenting a little as he added, 'Certainly he will like you. Hernando is usually taken with the ladies. I will have to see that he has too much work to bother you unduly.' 'Am I to be isolated from all male companionship?' she asked a trifle daringly, but he was not even slightly amused. 'The thought had occurred to me, in view of your commitment to this William, but we will have to see how you cope with life at the house. I expect that you will survive even without any protection from me. Perhaps you will survive better than. I do. Women have the intrinsic ability to shake the ground beneath a man's feet.' 'There won't be time for me to shake any ground!' Sara said tightly, forgetting her new plan. 'I shall be going!' 'When I let you!' he said softly, back to quiet mockery. 'Meanwhile, there is the house.' He was not about to say any more and, after a worried glance at him, she looked across the yawning chasm to see for the first time the house where she was to make her home for the next week, or even longer. Her future was in the determined hands of this man, and she could not at the moment break free. She didn't want to even think about the frightening implications, but for as long as she was here, in Mexico, there was a chance to get to her father. Whatever she had to do, she was sure that she could do it. The house nestled close to the foothills of the mountains, and there was a stately beauty about it that held her attention. From so far off it was possible to take a good look at it from an unusual angle, because it was quite clear that they would once again have to descend to reach the house. From this eagle-eye view she could see the gardens surrounding it, the buildings that were probably servants' quarters,

the great outer wall that surrounded the whole property, and the treefilled gardens, bright with colour even from here. 'There's a pool!' The glitter of water had caught her eye, and she could not stop the excited exclamation. 'Certainly. It can be very hot here, and a swimming pool is more of a necessity than a luxury. I hope that you will enjoy using the pool. Do you swim?' His sensuous lips quirked. 'But why should I ask? It is a thing that is easily discovered. We will simply throw you in. MariaTeresa will like that, no doubt.' 'Maria-Teresa?' She looked at him anxiously, and received a quick, sardonic glance. 'My stepmother's daughter,' he informed her shortly. 'Or to be less obscure, my stepsister. I cannot think that she will take to you very easily. She is eighteen, and well aware of her own female powers already.' 'I'm not at all sure what you mean,' she said quickly, her heart suddenly racing with anxiety. 'I mean that she will probably not appreciate the fact that you are to stay in my house for any length of time, or even for any time at all.' 'But why? I haven't even met her yet! How could I possibly offend her?' Carreras shot her a look of pure irony, his laughter soft and sardonic. 'Neither my stepmother nor my stepsister welcome beautiful senoritas into the house,' he assured her. 'They like to rule the domain like queens in double harness. Only their—indulgence towards me has stopped a crisis at the thought of your arrival.' Indulgence! He meant fear! And now she felt plenty of it herself.

'Why are you doing this to me?' she asked heatedly, her eyes on his hard profile. 'But I have rescued you, senorita!' he said with mocking astonishment. 'I have cared for you, clothed you, and now I intend to keep an eye on you for a short while!' 'I won't change my mind about what I intend to do!' she said coldly, more alarmed than she would ever admit to this arrogant man. 'We will see, senorita!' he replied with an equal coldness that seemed to cloud the hot sunshine as he drew slowly to the high gates in the wall that surrounded the house and grounds. The gates were heavy, oaken gates studded with brass, old Spanish gates that were opened at his blast on the horn by two white-clad servants, their sombreros tipped over their dark faces. Sara glanced at them as they drove past, her muscles tensing. They were colourful, calm- looking, but to her they suddenly took on the look of gaolers. What would they do if she walked down here and demanded in an imperious voice that they open the gate? Senor Carreras, apparently, could read minds. 'A warning, senorita!' he said sharply. 'The grounds are patrolled at nights by a very ferocious dog. He is so effective, in fact, that keeping more than one dog has proved to be unnecessary. Walk where you will during the day; he is then confined. At night, however, call to me if you feel compelled to move further than the patio. You are a stranger, and he does not take to strangers!' 'I shall not forget, Senor Carreras!' she said as smoothly as she could. Here, then, was the threat. During the day there would no doubt be plenty of the white- clad servants to watch her. At night, she would be a prisoner.

They drove through beautiful gardens bright with towering poinsettias and magnolia bushes and, although determination still ruled her mind, Sara knew a miserable feeling of inevitability as he drew up by the massive front doors. 'Welcome to my home, Senorita Lawrence,' he said softly. 'My house is your house.' An old Mexican custom, no doubt, but to Sara he might equally have said, 'My house is your prison.' It felt like that!

CHAPTER FOUR THE HALL was spacious and cool, furnished not as she had somehow expected, with heavy furniture to match the rather brooding Spanish architecture of the house, but with light modern tables of beautiful design. There were bowls of flowers everywhere, and the parquet floor shone like glass. Jaime Carreras did not linger here however, but, taking her arm again, he headed for one of the rooms at the side of the hall and opened the door. He was throwing her into this without any form of consultation, and Sara had no idea what to expect. She suddenly had the frantic desire to cling to his arm, to hang on to the only person she knew, even though that person was Jaime Carreras, but no time for thought or action was given. The room was obviously the sala, and the thing that Sara noticed most was the wide expanse of carpet—a lovely blue, deep and luxurious. It set the colour scheme for the whole room. There were settees in delicately patterned covers, lamps on dark polished tables, deep easy- chairs in white and, everywhere, flowers and plants. It was a beautiful room, with huge windows opening on to the garden, the long curtains drawn back to let in the sun, and standing facing them both were the two women she had dreaded meeting. 'My stepmother, Constanza,' he introduced courteously, 'and her daughter, Maria-Teresa Lopez de Ferrer.' He urged Sara forward politely, presenting her with an air of one who will suffer no interference. 'Senorita Sara Lawrence,' he said coldly, adding, 'As you know, she is to stay here as my guest!'

Sara was still digesting the surprise of the length of name of MariaTeresa when the girl broke into a deluge of rapid Spanish, but he put a stop to that at once. 'You will please address me in English while Sara is here,' he said, with a smile at the girl which took any sting out of the words. It was all that Sara could do to stop gaping at him. He had called her Sara! His manner was friendly! A deep suspicion formed in her mind that he had told these two a story that was very wide of the truth! Her eyes flashed to his face, and to her astonishment he was smiling down at her pleasantly. For the life of her, she could not return that smile. 'Will you sit down, Senorita Lawrence?' Constanza Carreras motioned gracefully to one of the high-backed white chairs, remembering her position here and attempting to put on some face in view of Jaime's dominance. She was a woman in her late fifties, still attractive, but with a fretful, dissatisfied look about her mouth that robbed her of any real beauty. Sara moved forward uneasily, but before she could sit down Jaime took her arm, stationing her firmly beside him in front of the old fireplace that was now filled with flowers. 'I think that perhaps Sara would like to settle in her room first,' he said quietly, his hand warningly on Sara's arm. 'The journey from the hospital has tired her a little. She will come down to join us when she has freshened up and settled her things.' 'I—er—thank you, I do feel a little dazed!' Sara said with just enough sarcasm to have the hand tightening from warning to threat. 'It was a miracle that you survived the accident, Senorita Lawrence,' Maria-Teresa put in quickly. 'If Jaime had not been expecting you, I think that you would still have been in the mountains. He was able to

organise a very rapid search. Naturally, the crash was reported to him first.' Naturally! Sara tried to look grateful and demure, but her mind was seething with questions. Jaime Carreras would have some explaining to do the moment that they were alone. For the moment she was prepared to hold her tongue and go along with anything he said. If she told these two women that he had been ordering her, a complete stranger, to follow his rules while she was still in her own country, and that he had virtually forced her to be here, then he would perhaps feel obliged to return her to England. She did not want that at all. There was no money left for another flight to Mexico, and by then, in any case, the time would have run out. He might also feel obliged to explain to the stiff and unfriendly Constanza, and the beautiful black-haired girl who stood with dark and watchful eyes, that Sara Lawrence was a self-seeking, greedy woman who was, in any case, no better than she should be! Sara didn't fancy that, either; already the air was thick with antagonism and enquiry. 'It was lucky that—Jaime found me so quickly,' Sara agreed, smiling sweetly at his stepsister. 'It was an unfortunate way to arrive in his country.' 'Never mind. You are here now, and everything is nicely settled,' he said with a look of approval at her use of his first name. Apparently her intelligence-rating had soared in his estimation, or more likely he thought that she was so used to intrigue and subterfuge that she had picked up his signal and reacted purely from instinct. The two women were watching her so closely that Sara now wanted to get up to her room with great speed and have a quiet chat with her

captor before she faced them again. It was a relief when he rang the bell and a servant appeared at once. 'This is Senorita Lawrence, Conchita,' he explained, looking into the dark face of the old woman, who stood waiting with no sign of alarm. 'You now have the opportunity to practise all the English that I have taught you over the years. While she is here, you will speak to her in her own language, and address me only in English in her presence.' She nodded with a bright-eyed smile at Sara, her old face breaking into a wide grin, showing two or three gold teeth as Jaime added, 'When I am not available, she is in your care.' 'I am honoured, Senor Jaime,' she said, with little surprise at this statement. She was obviously comfortable with him, and there was certainly a lessening of the autocratic power in him when he addressed her. 'I will take care of her. She is beautiful,' Conchita remarked with a knowing look. Her grin widened when he urged her out with the words, 'Your eyes are sharp, Conchita, but watch the ease of your tongue. Call someone to get the senorita's suitcase, and then take Senorita Lawrence to her room.' 'Really, Jaime!' Constanza Carreras exploded quietly when the woman had gone. 'Must you treat that old woman like a confidante? Already she has far too much liberty here! Naturally, when you are not available, Maria-Teresa and I will see that the senorita is taken care of!' 'I am sure that you would,' he purred smoothly. 'However, Conchita is here to do the job for you, and she is answerable only to me. Do

not forget that I have known her all my life. She was my nurse when I was a child, and even now she scolds me when she thinks that I have strayed from the narrow path. Who better to guard Sara?' To guard her? The very use of the word made Sara's blood run cold. He had meant every word he had said, then! What exactly had he told these two? '1 would not wish my physical state to be discussed with that old Indian woman!' Maria-Teresa remarked sulkily, her eyes on Sara's hair and face. 'Do you not object, Senorita Lawrence?' 'I'm certain that Jaime knows best, for the moment,' Sara answered quickly. 'I'm still a little shaky after the accident. I'll be quite capable of taking care of myself after a few days. In any case, I'll be leaving soon.' If there was some plan here, if Jaime had confided in them at all, then now was as good a time as any to find out. 'How touchingly dependent you are at the moment!' Constanza said quietly, with a wry look at Sara that had her cheeks flushing. 'How fortunate that you already know Jaime, otherwise you would be still in that dreadfully uncomfortable hospital, among strangers.' 'However, she is not!' Jaime said smoothly. 'In a few days she will be completely restored to health, and then we can all settle down peacefully.' 'How long will you be here, Senorita Lawrence?' Maria-Teresa began with a sharp glance at Sara, but Jaime stopped that line of questioning at once. 'We will tell you all about our plans at dinner time,' he said with an affectionate smile at her. 'You are always too inquisitive, querida.

Let Sara get her breath before you pile questions on her. She is not as used to your ways as I am. As to your remarks about Conchita's Indian origins, we are all Mexicans! Do not alarm Sara with any prejudices that you have. I want her to enjoy her stay here. She will begin to imagine that we art savages,' he added with a sly look at Sara that brought angry colour to Maria-Teresa's face, but which did not fool Sara. He would never let a thing go by if it meant that he could get a dig at her. 'I will see you later,' he said solicitously as Conchita appeared at the door. 'You looked tired.. Allow Conchita to do everything for you. Perhaps you should have a light lunch in your room and then rest? It is your first day out of hospital, after all. You will be able to join us for dinner tonight.' Sara made a quick decision. It suited her well enough. By tonight they would have their story worked out, or at least he would be able to give her his latest orders before then, and she wasn't about to fight it. She wanted him to take her to her father, and she was beginning to see that the two women here might just be the sort of lever she needed. She smiled up at him winsomely. 'Thank you, Jaime,' she murmured sweetly. 'You're very kind to me.' It almost caught him off guard! She followed Conchita up the wide oak stairs. She was a bit tired and very annoyed with her irritating captor. He had had plenty of time on the way here to tell her how he proposed to explain her captivity to his relatives. From the look in Maria-Teresa's eyes, it was clear that the girl did not feel like a relative anyway, and his attitude could only have antagonised her. Far from imagining that the Mexican girl would want to throw her in the pool, he was deliberately engineering it! He had actually managed to be very slightly seductive to two women at once down there! She wondered that he hadn't thrown Constanza in for good measure!

In fact, she was a bit frightened, but there was no way that he was going to discover that! Right now, she would have gladly been back in the little hospital, planning to get help from the Embassy. If Jaime had not known her, surely she would have been handed over to the authorities, and they would have arranged it. This was a civilised country, even though she hated it for her own reasons. William must be worrying that she had not been in touch. She had been in Mexico for two weeks to her certain knowledge, maybe even longer than that. There had been a time when concussion had made her days a little hazy. Would Jaime forbid her to get in touch with William? In his present state of mind, she hardly dared to bring the subject up, but she would have to and very soon. Power! Even when she had been in England, his name had spelled power. How much power did he have here? Could he force her to stay? In this day and age it was unlikely, but then, all this was unlikely! There were too many questions, and Jaime would have to answer them. She felt a burst of irritation as she realised that she was now thinking of him as Jaime, instead of as that arrogant Mexican. It would have to stop! When Conchita left, she inspected the room. Like the sala, it had rich appointments—subtle shades of pink and blue on a background of cream. A woman's room. She recognised that, and she wondered who had had this room before her. Everything she was likely to need was on the dressing-table and, opening a door at the side of the room, she found an equally luxurious bathroom, the towels continuing the pink and blue theme. It was only what could be expected in the home of a very rich man. He was accustomed to doing and having exactly everything he wanted. He had added her to that list! He had decided to correct her outlook on life, or at least see to it that she did not have the chance to 'chase' this particular money.

She wandered around the room for a minute, touching things, gaining pleasure from the beauty, and then her eye fell on the wardrobe built into the wall at the other side of the room. She opened it and found, as she had dreaded, clothes there that were obviously for her and not just a few for a short stay. Had they belonged to anyone else, they would have been removed in this efficient household. Jaime would not tolerate inefficiency, she was sure of that. The colours were suitable for someone of her own colouring, and the sight of them was altogether too much, emphasising her feeling of being trapped and utterly alone, even though she planned to turn it to her advantage. She left the door wide open and went to the long window, opening it and stepping out on to the balcony, staring at the mountains with unseeing eyes, thinking rapidly but reaching no conclusions. She did not hear Jaime come into the room, her first intimation that he was there being when a hard hand grasped her arm as his voice rang harshly in her ears. 'Do not step out on to this balcony!' he ordered sternly, and before she could react at all she found herself drawn back into the room, the tall windows closed. Even the back of his neck looked angry. 'As yet, I do not know whether you will be subject to fainting spells,' he said, checking that the windows were indeed secure. 'It was mentioned at the hospital, and certainly you took a hard blow to the head and had concussion. Therefore, to go on the balcony is dangerous!' He turned towards her and his tone changed abruptly as he saw her face. 'Why are you looking like that?' he grated angrily. 'I am not locking you in your room! Taking unnecessary risks is out of the question. You are my guest. I am responsible for your welfare, and I am merely seeing that you do not harm yourself!' Now was the time. She took a deep breath and faced him squarely.

'I want to telephone England!' she said as firmly as possible. 'I've been in hospital for two weeks and...' 'Three!' he corrected harshly. 'In fact you have been there for slightly longer than that. As I said, you have had concussion, badly. There were injuries and then there was the shock. It was, after all, an air crash!' 'Over three weeks!' It was longer than she had thought. William would be going mad with worry! 'I've got to telephone England! He—they—people will be anxious about me...' 'You came to seek your father, to trek into the mountains. Surely you had not anticipated that it would be possible to put in a call to England every night?' he enquired scathingly, his brow darkening. 'You are still with this man, then? I had wondered if, after my advice, you would be spreading your favours further afield!' Sara's flat palm caught him across the face before she remembered the consequences of such an action, and his head snapped back with the force of it. She was wildly angry and completely forgot her plan. Her anger, though, could not compare with his. 'Zorra! That is twice!' He grasped her shoulders and hauled her against the power of his chest, his eyes blazing with fury. 'Dios! Try that again and I will shake the breath from you, even if you have just survived an accident! Next time I might very well forget that you have injured your head, and shake it off!' He was terrifying! It was very clear that nobody had ever had the temerity to stand up to him before, and that the slap she had given him in the park in London had been his first experience of physical reprisal. There was not one ounce of pity in his face, only the astonishment and fury that her slap had engendered. He, it seemed, could say anything he chose, hurl any kind of insults, while she was

supposed to stand there and take it calmly. It infuriated her, and she forgot her fear in her own anger. 'Speak to me like that again and I'll do exactly the same or worse!' she blazed, struggling furiously to free herself from his iron grip. 'Let me go! I want to phone William and I'm going to phone William! Try to stop me and I'll get help from somewhere else!' 'From where?' He still held her fast, but his anger was now beginning to subside, no doubt because he was amused at her inability to get free or to carry out her wild threats. It made her struggle more, her hair falling over her face, her hands plucking uselessly at him until he gave her a quick shake. 'Stop this nonsense!' he said sharply. 'You are tiring yourself out. This will make you ill again!' He was perfectly right, of course, and Sara stopped suddenly, realising that she was trembling uncontrollably. She felt quite shaken all at once, helpless. She had enough of a burden without this man tearing into her whenever he felt like it, without his interfering and domineering intrusion into her life. 'Let me go!' she said coldly, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. 'I admit to being temporarily trapped, but I will not submit to either insults or manhandling!' 'It is not, and never was my intention to manhandle you!' he said quietly. He sounded harassed, and she looked up into the brilliantly dark eyes, surprised to find his face neither angry nor sardonic. 'I have told you that you are irritating!' he said heavily, letting her go and turning away. 'I have a temper of my own, and you seem to bring it to the surface more quickly than any woman I have ever known. No doubt it is because you are English!' he added, turning to her with a gathering frown.

'No doubt!' Sara said bitingly. 'Perhaps Mexican women take readily to being ordered about. I do not!' He looked frustratedly at her as she walked to the bed and sat on the edge of it. 'Does William "order you about"?' he asked unexpectedly. 'Do you fly into a rage and beat him when he tries to advise you?' The unique idea brought a quirk to Sara's lips, and her eyes met the dark eyes that seemed to be watching her intently. 'I've known William for a long time, senor,' she said more quietly. 'We get along fine.' 'Obviously!' he snapped. 'You are staying with him, although he is not wealthy enough to take care of your desires apparently. He must have something else going for him!' He shrugged uninterestedly, dismissing William and her private life with the one gesture. 'You had better get used to calling me by my name, instead of this strictly formal way of speaking,' he added coolly when she simply sat there. 'I'm glad that you brought that up!' Sara said sharply. 'It's fortunate that I was able to field the fast one that you threw at me downstairs. You called me by my first name quite unexpectedly,' she explained irritably when his eyes merely widened at her expression. It gave her a small spurt of satisfaction that he was not completely knowledgeable about the English idiom. 'You were admirably quick,' he agreed with a slight smile. His raised eyebrows made her feel just slightly criminal, and her voice sharpened to match her annoyance. 'Perhaps, senor, it would be a good idea to tell me what lies you felt it necessary to use as an explanation of my presence here?'

His quick flare of anger was well worth the risk of calling him a liar, and he glowered at her briefly before explaining in a cold voice, 'I have told them that we knew each other in London. They know that you are here to look for your father, and for the time that will suffice! Should it be necessary to restrain you for any great length of time, I will think of something else!' Sara ignored the cold attitude, the threat of further restraint. Her ears had heard exactly what they wished to hear. 'They'll expect you to take me to my father!' she said triumphantly, standing up in her eagerness. 'Are you going to take me, Jaime?' Enthusiasm robbed her of any formality and he smiled slowly, walking forward to look down at her, his eyes glittering with amusement. 'At least you are never dull,' he said with laughter in his voice. 'And, yes, Sara, I do intend to take you to your father. Perhaps you should see him, after all. Maybe you will not then dislike him so much. However, do not get too excited. I will take you when the time is up and the money no longer in your grasp. Then, perhaps, you will be able to look at him and assess him without the glitter of gold blinding your eyes.' 'Then, senor, I will not have the faintest interest in going!' she snapped. 'You will go! It will be worth it just to see how you react to the hardships of the mountains,' he goaded. 'Perhaps by the time we get back to civilisation you will have forgotten all about William?' 'Never in a million years!' Sara replied, goading in her turn, her pert face sarcastic. If he was going to get annoyed, let him!

He did not get annoyed, however. Instead, he reached forward and captured her, laughing down into her eyes, and she became horrifyingly aware of an electric thrill of attraction and of the suddenly speculative look on his dark face. 'For a moment, in that cold park in England, you forgot all about William, senorita,' he said quietly. 'If I want you to forget him, you will!' His smile of total superiority infuriated her out of any thrill, and she pulled against him, trying unsuccessfully to free herself, alarmed at the rising excitement that had started to surge through her. 'This is called kidnapping! Even in an uncivilised place like this, there must be some sort of law! You can't get away with it, and you know it!' 'I can get away with it for long enough,' he murmured, his eyes flaring over her breasts, tight against the bodice of her dress. 'You—you barbarian!' She shuddered at the look in his eyes, and his head snapped up, his dark gaze holding hers until her face flushed like a rose. 'You are talking yourself into trouble again, senorita!' he said softly, and this time she couldn't think of any reply, couldn't even move. She was back in England, back in the cold silence of the park, his hands stroking her face, his lips caressing. Wild excitement swept through her again, making her flushed cheeks pale, and his face became intent. When she simply stared back into his eyes, her breathing fast and uneven, he muttered under his breath and lifted her close into his arms, his mouth covering hers.

Shock-waves of pleasure hit her, racing through her whole body in an instant, softening her as his arms gathered her up, pulled her tightly against him as he felt her delicately feminine response. She forgot everything. She was not ashamed, not embarrassed. Her only desire was to drown in him, never to surface, and she allowed herself to sink into a fantasy of swirling colour and light, clinging to him, her lips fused with his, time moving backwards to that first kiss, a kiss she had pushed out of her mind for months. A small sound of protest murmured in her throat, although her slim arms wound around Jaime's neck, and for a second his kiss deepened, became all-consuming, possessive and fierce, so that she was bewildered when he suddenly pulled away. They stared at each other like enemies, as indeed they were, but neither moved, and his eyes began a slow journey over her face, examining every detail as she stood there trembling. 'Did you think that was William, or did you know it was me?' he asked drily, suddenly snapping back to life, his dark eyes narrowed and sardonic. 'Why did you do it?' Sara asked breathlessly, not yet in control of her heartbeat. 'Why did you let me?' he countered softly. His hand came round her nape, his thumb tilting her face. 'I too have plans, senorita,' he informed her quietly. 'Perhaps you fit in with them.' Magic vanished as temper flared, and Sara stepped clear of temptation, frowning ferociously at him, irritated further when he laughed softly. 'You are like an angry child,' he assured her. 'Get a little rest and keep that rage under strict control when you come down for dinner.

Remember that I knew you in London, that we are good friends and that I am taking you to your father—when you are well!' 'I'm well now, and I'll tell them that, too!' Sara snapped. 'You have a little more colour than you had a few minutes ago,' he agreed, his hand stroking down her heated face, 'but when we came in to the house you were distinctly pale, obviously unfit to travel. I cannot promise to keep kissing you back to a healthy appearance. You might easily forget about William—and so might I!' He strode from the room before she could draw breath to get back at him, and, after all, she was glad to take off her dress and creep into bed. One session with him and she felt emotionally drained. He was too dangerous to oppose, he used unfair methods of attack. She could still feel those hard, sensuous lips on hers as she fell asleep. She hated him! Her mind told her that firmly, but her whole being, her soul even, had reacted to his kiss. The beauty of her feelings only slowly faded, like a shining thread of light that still lingered when darkness was complete. She had felt safety in his arms for a second, safety and peace and a growing wonder, but her mind refused even to consider it, this foolish and dangerous flare of attraction. It could make her even more vulnerable. She went to sleep, deeply troubled, but her dreams were of hard, warm lips that she still felt searching hers.

Conchita awakened her as the day was fading into a deep blue evening, bringing her a steaming cup of tea and announcing that she was going to prepare a bath.

Later, dressed for the confrontation with the two women she had seen so briefly, Sara made her way slowly down the old dark stairs. With Conchita's help, she had chosen a dress of deep blue that picked up the colour of her eyes and made her hair shine like a glittering cloud of light around her head. It had been brushed repeatedly by Conchita, in spite of her protests, and she had been made a little uneasy by the old Mexican woman's frequent chuckles of amusement as she had plied the stiff brush through the thick amber hair. Now, though, she pushed all other thoughts from her mind as she approached the closed door of the sala where Conchita had assured her they would all be waiting. Tonight, she intended to be calm and assured, ignoring the attitude of Constanza Carreras and MariaTeresa. If need be, she would ignore Jaime, too. Nevertheless, her determination took a severe jolt when she opened the door to find them waiting for her. It was one thing to imagine them, but quite another to see three pairs of dark eyes turned to her as she entered the room. 'Conchita said that I would find you here.' To gain a few minutes, she turned away to close the door, and when she turned back Jaime was beside her, taking her arm and drawing her forward. 'And you have found us. Good! Now we wait only for Hernando, and we will eat.' The incident in the bedroom earlier might never have happened. Sara could not help searching his face for some sign of his thoughts, but he was back to normal; dark, enigmatic and powerfully sure of himself. 'Meanwhile, I have news for you. I have arranged for you to call England. There is often some delay with these longdistance calls, and I have booked a call for you just after dinner if that is convenient for you?'

'Oh! Well, yes...' Sara tried not to let any of her surprise or anxiety show itself to the two women who stood watching with close interest. 'I—I'm very grateful!' 'Not at all!' he said, with all the arrogance she had begun to expect. 'After all, William will be "champing at the bit"!' There was censure, sarcasm and a certain threatening air about him that had her instantly flushing, and she would have liked to walk out there and then. 'There is a man in the senorita's life already?' To Sara's surprise, the face of Maria-Teresa lost its petulance and took on a gleam of friendly interest, her eyes actually warming as Sara blushed helplessly. 'Why, yes, Sara has a great friend in England who— shares her life to some extent,' Jaime said goadingly. 'He worries about her!' he added with a wry look at Sara's face. He was needling her, even though he had warned her about bursts of temper. 'He cares about me and he's very kind!' she said to Maria-Teresa with a confiding look, one woman to another, ignoring Jaime's words and his twisted smile. The remark had the unexpected effect of wiping the smile off Jaime's face. 'And he is very indulgent!' he snapped. 'Perhaps he will have reached the end of his indulgence when he realises exactly where you are! He cannot think so greatly of you if he is prepared to allow you to wander about alone in Mexico. Perhaps he was glad to see you go?' 'Jaime! What a thing to say!' Constanza Carreras murmured in a shocked voice. 'The senorita is quite beautiful, most unusual, and

though you may not see it yourself, her friend no doubt does. After all, just because the Mexican male seems to prefer dark-haired women, there is no reason to suppose that Englishmen do so. I would think that when she is stronger she will fly off rapidly to her own country. Undoubtedly the young man there is pining for her this very minute, wondering where she is. It is a sad thought.' 'Extremely sad!' Jaime muttered between clenched white teeth. 'I am desolate at the idea!' The whole conversation was astonishing. The fact that Jaime had spoken so openly before these two women was in itself surprising when he had worked out the attitude she was to take. It was obvious that, whatever his plans, she annoyed him too much for him to hold his tongue. Why she should have expected anything different, she did not know. The thought, too, of William worrying was upsetting, and momentary distress showed on Sara's face. Jaime's booking of the telephone call had given her a feeling of gratitude, but in view of his attitude now she felt alarm. It was so out of character! What was he up to? Did he intend to stop her at the last minute? She felt tears of anxiety and frustration at the back of her eyes, and Maria-Teresa noticed at once. 'You are upsetting the senorita, Jaime!' she said quietly. 'You should not bring back such memories of this man when she has been away for so many weeks.' 'She will soon be able to speak to him!' Jaime's voice was indifferent to any upset. 'Meanwhile, you may leave Sara to me!' 'And to the man in England!' Maria-Teresa said with a little smile that earned her a glare. Evidently he had tired of the game he was playing.

'Can I really telephone England?' Sara asked in a whisper as the two women moved away, either tiring of the conversation or uneasy about Jaime's now tight face. 'I have already booked the call!' he said sharply, adding with a cruel sarcasm, 'Do not be so surprised, Sara. I have merely booked a call, not a flight. You are still here, right under my hand, well within reach.' 'If you imagine that I'll...' she began in a furious whisper, but her words died, in her throat as he looked at her slowly and levelly. 'Yes,' he said softly, 'I imagine that you will, if you think that there is any advantage to be gained by it. However, as I told you in your room when you clung to me so ardently, it is not a good idea. We should try to remember William.' Sara's face flared with colour, but she did not have the chance to reply because there was suddenly no quiet privacy. The door opened and she had her first glimpse of Hernando Riera, Jaime's secretary— and a very different atmosphere entered the room.

CHAPTER FIVE 'I HAVE not, I hope, kept you waiting?' Hernando's eyes were on Sara, on her bright hair and fair skin, and there was a heightening of the tension in the room, the petulance coming back to Maria-Teresa's face, and a further stiffening of Jaime's attitude. 'You are not late, Hernando,' he said coolly. 'Allow me to introduce you to Senorita Sara Lawrence. She will be here for a while, I imagine, so you will be able to get better acquainted at a later date.' 'Your servant, senorita.' Hernando Riera bowed and smiled. 'I am delighted that you are here. I shall spend every spare moment with you in future.' The laughter in his voice took any spice from the remark, but MariaTeresa did not appreciate this at all, and neither, it seemed, did Constanza Carreras. Sara did not know whether Jaime was amused or not when he said sardonically, 'Remind me to double your workload. For now, let us eat, or Conchita will appear and scold us all.' In spite of his attitude, however, Sara found herself seated next to Hernando and facing Jaime, the latter being at once fully occupied by Maria-Teresa, who started an animated conversation and twice had to be reminded to speak in English. She seemed to be intent upon keeping her eyes away from Sara and Hernando Riera. Not that it mattered. Sara was not listening to any conversation. Her mind was noting, as her eyes had noted, that twice at least Jaime's strong hand had covered the more slender fingers of his stepsister, and the action had been secret and lingering. He apparently thought it was quite all right to kiss her in the bedroom and hold hands with his stepsister a few hours later. This was a type

of morality that Sara found disgusting. He had been nasty and sarcastic earlier, and now there was no sign on his face that he even remembered. He was neither looking at her nor avoiding her glance, and she had to strive really hard to answer the questions that Hernando put to her. She was filled with anger at Jaime's attitude, and had misgivings as to whether she would be able to telephone, after all. Hernando Riera was a very charming man, and she guessed that he was about twenty-six or -seven. Like his powerful employer, he was dark-haired, and in his own way very handsome, but his eyes had not the black brilliance of Jaime's, and her overall impression was of gentleness and kindness. The overall impression of Jaime was and would always be that of a vibrant force, an elemental power. Who could compare in any way? She had the dreadful feeling that he was invincible. She realised belatedly that she was staring at him, and that both Maria-Teresa and Constanza were watching her. Jaime, too, had his eyes on her, his gaze narrowed thoughtfully. 'I'm sorry,' she said quickly. 'Were you speaking to me?' 'Merely a remark,' he assured her. 'Constanza asked how you had managed while in hospital for the things that you needed, and I said that you had everything that you needed at the moment, more than you seem to require.' 'Jaime bought things for me,' Sara confessed with a faint flush of colour. 'I have plenty of clothes, it seems. More than I'm going to wear,' she added pointedly for his benefit. She felt a shiver of apprehension as Jaime smiled wryly at this remark. She knew that her wardrobe contained enough clothes for an

almost permanent stay here, and so did he. After all, he had bought them! 'Surely one cannot have too many clothes?' Constanza said with the air of one addressing a lunatic. 'You are without your usual amount of things, I'm sure!' 'Oh, there are one or two things that I would have normally had besides the things that Jaime bought me,' Sara said brightly, 'but I've never had such expensive clothes. It's something that I've never been able to afford. Few people are as rich as Jaime!' His eyebrows raised quizzically, and she left him to make of that whatever he liked. 'Well, I'm sure that Jaime has enjoyed looking after you and getting expensive things for you. All this will be a novelty to him. It will be something for him to remember with amusement when you go.' 'Yes, I expect it will,' Sara said, smiling sweetly at him. 'In a few days we shall be going to find my father. Has Jaime told you that he has promised to take me into the mountains to search for my father?' His look of narrow-eyed warning was ignored as she ploughed on determinedly. 'If I hadn't had that stupid accident, I expect we should have already been there where my father is. We shall have to go very soon now though, because I have a job to get back to. I only have a little leave.' Actually, her leave was now up, and she could quite imagine Mr Partridge's face when she failed to turn up for work. She wondered if Jaime was enjoying the game now that she had the ball. A quick look at his hostile face assured her that he was not. She didn't particularly care. If she could tie him up in knots, she would do

so. She could imagine Constanza's daily questions in the future about the trip. She had not one single doubt that both women wanted her out of here as fast as possible. 'Yes, your father!' Constanza said with great enjoyment. 'He was once so very famous. I used to hear about him all the time!' Sara stiffened, all the assumed sweetness dying from her face. Her mother used to hear about him all the time too, hear about his exploits, even when she had no wish to be hurt further. Her grandmother used to delight in reading the paper out loud to them at breakfast time if any news of Hector Lawrence was there. She would sit regally at the head of the table—her table—and deliver the news in a tone that would have been better used in a parliamentary debate. The 'morning press conference', her mother called it! 'I am astonished that he simply disappeared,' Constanza went on. 'Perhaps now he will come out and have a great find to show the world. And you are going to seek him! It is most exciting.' 'It's sheer necessity,' Sara said briefly, bitterness making tight lines around her mouth. 'Now that I'm well, I want to get it over with and get back to England!' 'Ah! Of course! You have this wonderful man there who will be waiting for you!' Constanza said smugly. 'Yes,' Sara assured her with a brief smile. 'William will be rather desperate to see me. There is no harshness, no arrogance in William.' Her eyes were misty as she thought of William and his utter goodness. She avoided Jaime's eyes, but his stillness as he digested this whiplash was almost audible. She saw him put down his knife and fork with slow deliberation, but she refused to look up, and Constanza helped by blurting out her next question. - 'But why are

you doing this alone, Senorita Lawrence? At one time your father was always in the magazines. I thought that he was a lord, one of your English aristocracy, or something.' 'You shouldn't believe all that you read in the glossy magazines, senora,' Hernando was foolish enough to point out, and he earned himself a sharp look of reproof for speaking out of turn. Apparently Constanza was not so liberal as to appreciate the remarks of Jaime's secretary when she was hunting for information. 'My grandmother had the title, Senora Carreras,' Sara said quietly, 'but it was only a life peerage, for her political work. She died earlier this year, and left my father a considerable fortune. Of course, he doesn't know. I'm here to tell him the news. There was nobody else to come.' 'How very interesting!' Constanza was soaking in this information. 'You must miss your grandmother very much.' 'Not really,' Sara said softly. 'I hated her. Excuse me, please. I'm afraid I feel faint!' She left the table quickly and stepped out into the cooler air of the veranda, walking away, across the patio and into the darkened gardens. The mention of her grandmother had upset her more than she had thought possible. All the old bitterness had come flooding back. If there was any obsession in her, then it was with this hatred, this blame she placed at the feet of her grandmother and her father. She walked further, staring blindly ahead, her mind far away in England, seeing her grandmother's autocratic face. Her father had left them in his mother's care when Sara was small, promising to be back soon, assuring them of his love, secure in the knowledge that his mother would care for his wife and child, leaving his responsibilities behind him.

But Sylvia Lawrence had disliked her famous son's wife, for the very sweet and ordinary girl was not the sort of person she would have chosen for him, and her greatest pleasure was to humiliate her. Sara had been too young then to realise it, but she had realised it later, when it was almost too late... Her son's wife was left out of anything that took place at the grand house, treated with veiled contempt by her grandmother when guests were there. Sara was brought in and paraded with satisfaction, as her grandmother pointed out the child's likeness to Hector, and how very little of her mother there was in her. She was quite secure in her many small cruelties and snubs. Hector had left nothing for his wife and child, relying on his mother's beneficence. The things that her grandmother did for her had been done solely as an added twist to the knife that she held at the throat of her mother. Riding lessons, music lessons—anything that she could come up with to tie Sara to her and separate her from her mother. Sara's mother had known full well that she would have to leave before her own child was turned into a mirror image of the old woman. She had left, taking Sara, working to keep them and hoping every day that her husband would return. He had not and, finally, even his letters had stopped, letters that had never once answered her mother's pleas for his return. It was too late now, her mother was dead, dead before her grandmother, worn out with work and grief, but all the bitterness and anger remained. Jaime caught her as she stepped out under the trees, his hand coming tightly to her arm. 'I warned you of walking in the dark without me!' he said harshly. 'You seem to have no sense of danger!'

Sara simply turned back to the house and he let her walk, keeping his hand tightly on her, swinging her to face him when they came back within the circle of light. 'I hope that Constanza did not upset you,' he said, looking at her closely as the light caught her face, leaving his in the shadow. 'No!' She stared straight ahead and he watched her with narrowed eyes. 'You never told me about this grandmother,' he said quietly. 'Why should I have? I didn't know you! I didn't want to know you! I only asked for your help, and you refused. The rest of the chasing has been your own idea. I don't want you in my life, so why should I tell you my life history?' He seemed stunned, although he should not have been. She had already demonstrated her ability to hit back hard when under threat. It didn't matter, anyway! The bitterness was back, as bad as ever, more strong now that she was in this land. Some of William's words came back to her. They had quarrelled violently before she'd left. He was afraid for her, and it had made him speak out as he would never have done ordinarily. 'Do you realise, Sara, that your mother was not always ill?' he'd said. 'Couldn't she have left that old witch long before she did? She wasn't what the old lady wanted, but she wasn't stupid. I remember her. I'm older than you are, and one thing I do remember, she liked to whinge!' The words had hit Sara like a blow. It was true that her mother had complained to her even when she was quite small, and maybe she should not have done that, but Sara had seen her mother become ill,

had seen her die! If her grandmother had not behaved as she had done, then her mother would have been able to live more easily. She would have been alive today! She had told William that forcefully, but he had been unrepentant. 'There was no need for her to leave, Sara! She only needed to stand up to the old lady and give as good as she got! She preferred to complain though, to you, even when you were small and easily swayed. Your father wasn't too powerful, either. He just went off and did his thing like a schoolboy, with no thought for anything else. You stand up to everything and everybody. You've more of the old lady in you than you think!' That was when Sara had walked out of the house and bought her ticket to Mexico. Now she wondered if she should have listened, talked to him, explained that he had not been there to see! She missed him. He was the only firm peg in her life. Sara didn't even know that she was crying bitterly until two arms came around her. She had completely forgotten Jaime in her griefstricken thoughts. She jerked her head away from his shoulder, where it seemed to be resting, but he pulled it gently back. 'Ssh! Be still!' he said quietly. 'I do not know what storm Constanza has called up, but it must blow itself out before you face them again.' 'I—I'm perfectly all right!' Sara said tightly, as stiff as a rod in his arms, unable to get free. 'I am sure that you are,' he said with laughter in his deep voice, 'but please, stay and be perfectly all right here for a while.'

He was quietly kind and she succumbed to the temptation, resting against him and finishing her burst of misery against the comfortable warmth of his shoulder. When her unhappiness had subsided, Sara felt embarrassed and very annoyed with herself. As he felt her stiffen, Jaime released her and led her back into the house. She was pleased to see that dinner was over and that the two women had retired to the sala to play cards with Hernando. Maria-Teresa heard them come in, apparently, because she appeared at the door of the dining-room, begging Jaime to join them. Although he refused, saying that he must assist with the expected phone call, he did not refuse in any unpleasant way, and his eyes still smiled at Maria-Teresa until she closed the door behind her, her face flushed and smiling. She had entirely ignored the signs of tears on Sara's face, and Sara was grateful for that. She was recovered now, and she wanted neither sympathy nor questions. Jaime led Sara to the study and then simply sat on the edge of the desk, waiting with great patience that only added to Sara's mounting nervousness. He said nothing at all, and when the telephone call was finally arranged, he walked out of the room after handing the receiver to her with no comment whatsoever. William seemed to be almost beside her, the line was so clear, but even knowing Jaime's great wealth she felt the need to hurry with this call, for the expense of it alarmed her. 'Sara!' William was astonished to hear from her. 'Are you back in England? You sound to be almost in the same room!' 'No, I—I'm still in Mexico. William, I'm...'

'Don't say it, Sara,' he interrupted warmly. 'I'm the one to be sorry. I should never have said what I did. I know how you feel.' 'I hate to quarrel with you!' Sara burst out, and his voice was soothing, even from so far off. 'I hate it too, love. Never again. Well, did you find him?' he asked, with a certain amount of excitement and no anger at all. There was something to be happy about, after all. William had forgiven her for her headstrong decision to rush off to Mexico; he was only interested in her news and getting her back. 'No—no, er—I haven't been able to get on with it. I—I had an accident...' He exploded into sound, anxious and angry at the same time, and she had to raise her voice to stop him. 'I'm all right, William, truly I am,' she said urgently. 'I've been in hospital and now I'm out and I'm all right.' It was difficult to tell him that she had survived a plane crash and was still in one piece, but after a while he was convinced. 'So where are you now?' he asked firmly. There was no nonsense about William. 'I—I'm staying with—friends,' she said warily. 'Where?' It came to her mind that William was standing there with a notebook and pen, preparing to write her address and come out here to get her. If only he could! 'It's in the mountains. I don't know exactly the place but, William, I'll try to ring you again and let you know then…' About to say that he

could come for her, Sara suddenly looked up and saw Jaime as he stood leaning against the open door. All her instincts rose up to protect William. Her eyes roamed over the tall physical perfection that was Jaime Carreras, and she saw William's lameness, their lack of money, lack of the language. He was safer at home! 'Then you can write to me,' she finished futilely, and saw Jaime's eyebrows raise sardonically. Her voice lowered to huskiness as she answered William's demand to know when she was coming back. 'I—I don't know when I'll be back, William,' she said quietly. 'As soon as I find him. I miss you!' she finished rather plaintively, not wanting at all to lose her contact with home, but it was time. After that, her departure from the study could not be quick enough, but Jaime waylaid her, taking her arm and swinging her towards him. 'I have not yet taken you to task for attempting to land me in trouble at dinner tonight,' he said evenly. 'It surely proves that I am not as barbaric as you suppose, when I allow you to get away with recounting promises that I did not make, and then hold you in my arms when you are upset!' 'Thank you for your kindness!' Sara said firmly, pulling her arm away. 'As to the promises, you stated quite clearly that you intended to take me to my father!' 'But not, as you led all to believe, with much alacrity!' he pointed out coolly. 'It will be much longer than you think before I take you into the mountains.' 'Look! I can't wait so long!' Sara said, moving closer to him in her exasperation, her face raised as she tried to make him see some sense.

'Some of us have jobs to go to in places that we do not own! If I'm away much longer, I just will not have a job to back to. People in the banking world are expected to be reliable! Surely you can understand that? You seem to own a bank yourself!' 'I wonder, senorita, just how stupid you imagine I am,' he said with a slight smile. 'There is not much chance of your bank having given you as much leave as you have taken, not someone in your position!' 'Oh, 1 know that I'm very lowly!' Sara snapped. 'There's really no need to point it out!' 'I am not doing that at all,' he remarked calmly. 'I am speculating and coming to the conclusion that you have already lost your job at the bank. It does not matter, surely? The man was an ogre, as you told me.' 'People put up with lots of things in order to eat!' Sara reminded him, and he smiled wore widely. 'But I will not let you starve, Sara. Stay here with me. Have a nice long holiday. I will take you to see your father much later and when we come back—we will see.' 'Do they know?' Sara snapped viciously. 'Do your family and your secretary know that you're offering me a new position? Is that why Maria-Teresa looks at me and sulks?' 'She is jealous,' he admitted, his eyes roaming over her, 'but I keep my private affairs to myself.' 'Well, I do not intend to be a private affair of yours! I'd fight you with every last breath!' Sara said furiously, her face flushed and angry.

'As you did in your room when I kissed you? As you did not long ago in the garden when I held you in my arms?' he asked drily. 'If I recall, senorita, it was I who pulled away from the kiss!' There was no answer to that, and Sara swept out of the room with what she hoped was some dignity. It was very much later, when Sara still paced her darkened room, her mind turning things over and over, that she stepped out on to the balcony, utterly disregarding Jaime's warning. She came to a sudden stop, feeling unspeakably guilty when she heard voices just below on the patio, and she was afraid to move, glad that the light was out in her room. She felt like an eavesdropper. It was Jaime and MariaTeresa. 'But what are we going to do, Jaime?' the girl was saying. 'Mama will never agree to the marriage.' 'It is up to you to make her agree, querida,' Jaime said, his arms coming around her. 'What is the sense in this frustration, in this waiting? You know how I feel about it! Tell her that you will do as you like and you will make two people very happy.' Sara saw the girl's pale face tilted for a kiss, and then Maria-Teresa went into the house. Jaime stood there for a moment longer, leaning on the rail, his eyes on the darkened garden, and Sara stealthily withdrew into her room. He had held Sara in his arms, kissed her, offered to be her—her lover! All the time he was planning to marry his stepsister! She felt utterly stunned, and realised the depths of his scorn for her, the little regard he had for her character. If he did not promise at once to take her to her father, she would find another way, even if it meant telling the girl about his wicked deceit!

CHAPTER SIX IN THE morning there was no sign of Jaime, and Sara felt extremely fretful. Another day wasted! She wandered around the house in the hope of meeting him and being able to bring up the subject of her trip again, but she finally reached the conclusion that he was out somewhere. There was no advantage to be gained by that, even. She was still without papers of any kind, without money, and she did not even know with any accuracy exactly where she was. It was with a feeling of growing frustration that she eventually searched among the brand-new clothes in her room and came up with a dark blue bikini. She might at least get a tan out of this! It was hot by the pool, but she determinedly sought the brightest place and stretched out to enjoy the sun. She closed her eyes, lying back on the lounger and letting the hot sunshine ease her limbs and her mind. The beauty of the place was breathtaking. It was a land of flowers. The mountains soared in the distance, spectacular, grand and alarming; the air was like wine. Anyone should be happy here in this tranquillity, anyone but Sara Lawrence. There was no tranquillity in her mind. 'Senorita?' The softly spoken word roused her sufficiently to have her attention, and she opened her eyes to find Hernando Riera watching her. 'I am sorry!' he said regretfully. 'I did not know whether you were awake or asleep. I had hoped that perhaps you were simply resting, and now I have disturbed you.' 'It's all right!' She sat up and managed a smile for him. If she was to have a friend at all here, then the only one she could think of was Hernando. He was the pilot, too. Maybe he would help her to escape? Jaime's face came into her mind, and she dismissed that unlikely idea

at once. Nobody would risk Jaime's anger, and Hernando's next words confirmed it. 'I have transgressed very seriously,' he confessed with a shrug. 'Jaime has given orders that you are to be allowed to rest. Here I am disturbing you on your first day of resting!' 'You're not disturbing me at all. I was only lying with my eyes closed for a second,' Sara said quickly. Why the particular order had been given, she did not know. Probably the fewer people she spoke to when Jaime was not there meant there was a better chance that the true state of affairs would not come out. It was lucky for him that she was satisfied to allow this state of things to continue for the moment. Unless something better came up! 'Do sit and talk to me for a while, Senor Riera,' she said with all the charm she could muster. It wasn't too difficult with this man. There was nothing alarming about him. Probably Jaime had driven any spirit out of him! 'Hernando, please!' he said with a smile, sitting opposite her. 'Great formality makes me uneasy.' He leaned back and smiled, looking so relaxed that his next remark caught her off guard. 'How well do you know Jaime?' he asked carelessly, his eyes on the distant mountain range. 'Not too well. He—he was in England quite recently, as you know, and... well, we had a mutual acquaintance, that's all.' She tried to be flippant about it, but he had caught the unease in her voice and turned to look closely at her. 'Sorry, I appear to be prying. It is hard to believe that you know him very slightly when he is so intense about you.'

'I expect he's a very intense man.' Sara laughed uneasily. 'I'm grateful for his—kindness.' 'I have never noticed intensity among his characteristics until last night at dinner,' Hernando said softly. 'He has the reputation of being utterly cold and calm. He is quite famous, as I suppose you know, famous without requiring such an honour. He is a very private man— solitary, in actual fact. He inherited a great deal of wealth. His family have been merchant bankers for generations, and now this is all in Jaime's hands. He deals with everything calmly and methodically. I have never known him show very much emotion except, perhaps, anger. Last night, however, when you retired early, he was—greatly disturbed, very quiet.' 'I expect that I'm a burden,' Sara said sharply. She suddenly didn't want to discuss Jaime like this. She had the ridiculous feeling that she was being treacherous. She did not want to have anyone prying into her affairs, either, and she had the distinct feeling that Hernando Riera was doing just that. In any case, she knew why Jaime had been silent and disturbed. It was nothing to do with her at all. It was his frustration at not being able to marry Maria-Teresa straight away. Why Constanza was opposing it was a mystery. He was wealthy beyond imagination, as far as she had been able to gather. In any case, it was none of her business. He only concerned her as far as he was an interfering and irritating block in her attempts to get to her father. She had problems enough, without any interrogation, and her tight frown brought a smile to Hernando's lips. 'I am prying like a woman!' he confessed with a laugh. 'I admit to being intrigued. Mysteries always fascinate me, and you are quite mysterious, Sara. During your stay in hospital he has not strayed too far afield. He has responsibilities and he fulfils them rigorously. I take much of the work off his hands, and of course there are others who also do that, but there are times when only he can make decisions and then he must be there.' He eyed her ruefully.

'Sometimes he is not there, and then there are moments of panic in the banking world. I have dealt with the panics while you have been in Mexico. For the first time ever, to my knowledge, he has delegated great responsibility and stayed right here. As I say, I am intrigued!' 'Perhaps he's training you for greater things!' Sara said a little sarcastically. Hernando Riera was just too near to the truth for her liking, and it was alarming, to say the least, to discover that Jaime had neglected everything to be close when she was in hospital. Why he had done that was no mystery to her. He had neglected his own affairs, it seemed, in order to interfere with hers! 'He's a very unusual man,' Sara added quietly. 'Frightening, sometimes.' 'I can only agree,' Hernando said drily. 'Not however, as frightening as Senora Carreras!' 'Why do you say that?' Sara asked, intrigued herself, and only too glad to change the subject. 'She is a woman with cast-iron plans, and a will to match!' he said briefly, and Sara was amused to find that she was not about to get any more information from him than he had received from her. It was like a very polite game of chess. A draw seemed to have been declared. 'I wanted to ask you something,' she said as nonchalantly as possible. 'How far are we from any good- sized town?' 'An awkward question,' he said with a laugh. 'It depends you what you mean. We are close enough to a town to get supplies if we need them, but nowhere near to what you would perhaps call civilisation, coming as you do from the capital city of your country. We are between the mountains and the sea, quite a long way from each of them. I suppose that the nearest place that would be acceptable to you would be Mexico City itself. It depends upon what you want.'

Escape! Sara thought wryly. She had expected as much. There was no way of getting out of here without help, and a close look at Hernando, at his sharp, intelligent eyes, told her that she had better watch her tongue. He would be firmly on Jaime's side. Not only did his job depend on it, but he was treated like one of the family. Perhaps similar thoughts had been going through his head, because he stood almost abruptly and bowed a small, almost ironical bow. 'I really must get on before Jaime comes and demands an explanation of this dalliance,' he said pleasantly, and she was startled but greatly relieved that he went at once. The reason for this departure soon became clear: Jaime's great black car came sweeping up the drive and stopped at the side of the house. Evidently Hernando had heard the gates. She had not, but the look in Jaime's dark eyes as he came with deceptive casualness around to the pool told her that he had seen the speedy departure. 'I see that you have not been lacking company,' he said drily, his eyes skimming over her slender figure. 'I am not surprised!' 'I expect you bought the bikini!' she said with an instant rise of aggression at the veiled scorn. 'I could have sunbathed in a long fur coat, but there wasn't one in my wardrobe!' 'What did he want?' he asked sharply, ignoring her sarcasm. 'I gave orders that you were not to be disturbed.' 'And he was suitably contrite!' Sara said sweetly. 'Don't worry, he was only making general conversation, and I didn't beg him to fly me out of here!'

'What a wasted opportunity!' he mocked. 'I would have thought that gaining an ally would be the first thought in your mind, and it would have been so easy for you. After all, he's a man!' 'I don't need allies!' she said angrily. 'I just need action! If you're only here to insult me, then I'll not even reply!' She closed her eyes, leaning back, her body trembling with suppressed annoyance, and she heard his mutter of exasperation. He got up and walked over to her, but she ignored him, although there was a quick, frightening feeling of awareness even though her eyes were shut. 'You still have bruises on your head,' he said tightly. 'You were badly hurt.' 'Don't be sorry for me,' she managed sarcastically, opening her eyes and looking up at him. 'I'll be crying all over you.' 'If you feel the need.' Her face flooded with colour as she remembered last night, and his eyes held hers until she quickly looked away., 'What were you so deeply discussing with Hernando?' he suddenly shot at her, his voice back to harshness. 'We were talking about your great power, how everyone needs you. Surely he's trained to sing your praises?' She suddenly sat up frustratedly, swinging her legs to the ground, determined to walk off. 'We were talking about the country around here, if you really must know! And then, of course, I was checking up on your wealth!' she said bitterly, looking up at him with a show of spirit. 'I have to weigh one kind of future against the other!' His smile was one of admiration, but he only spoke in a derisive tone.

'Even now, you are no further forward, are you? Hernando knows better than to discuss my affairs. Nevertheless, I hope that he spoke well of my prospects, my ability to take care of ail your desires?' His taunting voice was altogether too much, and she moved abruptly, getting to her feet, but he instantly blocked her retreat, his eyes shining intently into hers. 'I am making you agitated,' he said with little show of remorse. '1 did promise to treat you like an invalid for a while, but with you, it is difficult. You must forgive my lack of consideration.' She looked up into his face, her eyes held by the black glitter of his gaze, her heart beginning to pound heavily at the way he watched her. He was silent, alert, an almost predatory gleam at the very back of his hypnotic eyes that was totally at variance with his polite and apologetic words. 'You have not offered to forgive me,' he pointed out in a deep, velvety murmur, frightening her even more as his gaze began to roam over her, his eyes shuttered under heavy lids. 'There is too much about you that is unforgivable,' she said quietly. 'I'm grateful that you rescued me, grateful for your efforts to get me to hospital, but there my gratitude stops. Left at the hospital alone I would have been handed over to the authorities, and by now I would be in England, having seen my father and settled all this completely!' His hand slowly raised and reached out to touch her arm, to run tentatively up from her wrist to her shoulder, his eyes following the light, almost delicate movement of his brown fingers before returning to her troubled face. 'I have decided to take you myself,' he murmured, his hand continuing its light exploration of her skin, moving now to the silken

smoothness of her neck. His eyes were amused when she pulled away sharply. 'Do not be alarmed, Sara. You may take that remark at its face value,' he murmured. His hands suddenly moved to encircle her waist and urge her forward. 'If I keep you here for ever, though, who is to know, except William?' 'You—you're trying to frighten me! You can't do that! You haven't enough power to get away with any of the things you keep threatening!' She said it with an attempt at derision, but her lips were trembling and his eyes snapped to their tremulous beauty. 'Oh, I am well aware that you think I am a wealthy bandido,' he murmured. 'But you are excited. Every time you are near me, you are excited. You want me to kiss you, to hold you close to me.' His hand moved to cradle her head, lifting her face to his. 'You do not really wish to be protected from me.' 'I don't want you to touch me!' she said frantically. 'But you do, Sara,' he breathed. 'Your mind fights me, protests, but your body knows its own needs.' 'No!' Her face flushed with a mixture of fear and excitement that he had so astutely recognised. 'I don't need anything. I just want to get to my father and then go home!' She was making no attempt to pull away, and his dark eyes acknowledged the fact with satisfaction, his hands moving her ever closer. 'I do not wish you to go,' he reminded her softly. 'I like things exactly as they are for now. A softly pliant girl in my arms, with n